THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


. 


*#%^*m$S*F*S^. 

<%?m.  •  3s& 


7/ 


DR.  W.  A.  ENGLE. 


POEMS. 


BY 

DR.  W.  A.  ENGLE, 

OF 
HARTFORD,  MICHIGAN. 


CHICAGO: 
DIBBLE  PUBLISHING  CO. 

PUBLISHERS. 


COPYRIGHT, 

BV  Dtt.  W.  A.  EKGLE, 
A.D.,  1883. 


CELESTIAL  MUSE,  with  powers  divine, 
O  touch  my  feeble  tongue  !— 

Since  unborn  thoughts  within  my  mind 
Are  struggling  to  be  sung  ; 

O  give  them  Inspiration's  breath, 

That  they  may  breathe,  and  live  ; 

Thus,  being  born  to  life,  from  death, 
Them  of  thy  fullness  give. 

And  thou,  great  God,  who  fills  life's  cup, 
Give  me  the  power  of  song, 

That  I  may  rear  crushed  virtue  up, 
And  put  down  vaunting  wrong. 


759812 


PREFACE. 


In  presenting  to  the  public  the  following  poems,  we 
do  not  claim  for  them  any  great  degree  of  excellence 
or  perfection,  being  composed  when  surrounded  by,  and 
engaged  in,  the  busy  conflicts  of  life,  and  have  always 
been  made  objects  of  secondary  importance.  We  desire, 
therefore,  that  the  reader  will  read  with  a  spirit  of 
charity,  and  overlook  all  errors ;  discard  the  evil,  and 
cherish  only  the  good  ;  and  being  governed  by  the  good, 
will  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  author,  and  we  humbly 
hope  that  thereby  he  will  find  some  small  interest  in 
their  perusal.  Yours, 

W.  A.  ENGLE,  Author. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Adieu  to  the  Days  of  Childhood,        ...         60 

A  Dream,         ......  136 

A  Letter  of  Early  Manhood,                .           .  .       141 

A  L,o ve  Letter  of  Early  Manhood,            .           .  282 

A  Miscellany,        .           .           .           .           .  140 

A  Nightly  Scene,        .....  94 

A  Return  to  the  Scenes  of  Academic  Days,  .       1 33 

A  Soliloquy,                .           .           .           .           .  17 

Assassination  of  President  Lincoln,               .  .       302 

Autumn,           ......  149 

A  Vision  of  the  Mind,  ....         70 

A  Visit  to  the  Scenes  of  Childhood,        .           .  31 

Bay  View,  The  Beautiful,         .  287 

Behold  the  Varied  Forms  of  Human  Nature,  160 

Evening  Meditation,        .           .           .           .  .34 

Fashion  and  Health,             ....  32 

Fifty  Years  Old, 42 

Friendship,      ......  64 

How  Noble  are  the  Works  of  Nature,           .  .       296 

How  Weak  and  Frail  is  Man,        ...  46 

Human  Weakness,         .           .           .           .  .271 

Incident  at  School,                ....  297 

Independence  Day,          .           .           .           .  .105 

Knowledge  and  Virtue,  Wisdom  and  Truth,     .  66 
Liberty,       .......        103 

L;fe,       .......  29 

Lines  Written  to  a  Wife,           .           .           .  .135 

Lines  Written  for  a  Sister's  Album,        .           .  286 

Lines  Written  to  a  Brother,     .           .           .  .19 

Lines  Written  to  a  Brother  on  a  Visit  to  the  Old . 

Homestead,           .           .           .           .  .291 

Lines  Written  to  a  Friend,             .           .           .  151 

Lines  Written  on  Christmas  Eve.  of  1881,  ,       145 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Lines  Written  on  the  Close  of  School,     .           .  58 
Lines  Written  on  the  Assassination  of  President 

Garfield,          .....  265 

Lines  Written  on  the  Death  of  a  Young  Child,      r  14 

Lines  Written  on  the  Death  of  a  Young  Lady,  49 

Lines  Written  on  the  Death  of  a  Young  Boy,         .  280 

Lines  Written  on  the  Death  of  a  Young  Man,  143 

Lines  Written  on  the  Death  of  a  Young  Physician,  277 

Mystery  of  Mysteries,          .           .           .        '    .  124 

O  For  an  Hour  of  Sober  Thought,     .           .           .  159 

O  For  a  Walk  among  the  Stars,              .           .  98 

O  Liberty,  Why  Slumber  Long,         ,   .                  .  26 

Old  Allegany,            .           .           .           .           .  154 

Our  Mother,          .           .          ,           .           ...  68 

Parting  at  School,                .                      .           .  61 

Reflections  on  the  Setting  Sun,           .           .           .  100 

Scenes  of  Despair,                .           ,-         ...        .  53 

Scenes  of  Joy  and  Hope,          ..<         .           .         V  55 

Sin,        .           .           .           .           ...  12 

Smithfield,  or  the  Forgiven  Murder,             .   ,        .  205 

Solis,  or  King  of  the  Sun,              .           .           .  173 

The  Author's  Twenty-first  Birthday,            .         _".  107 

The  Ancient  Castle,             .           .           .           ..  96 

The  Forged  Will,           ..         '  .>          .           .       '";".,  38 

The  Husband's  Lament,      .           ..           .           .  193 

The  Medical  Faculty  of  the  University  of  Michigan,  169 

The  Pleasant  Wife,               .           .           .           .  23 

The  Three  Beauties;  or  Tom  Moore,            .  .        . ,  227 

The  Three  Lovers;  or  Deceit  Revenged,           .,' --  no 

The  Workings  of  the  Human  Mind,  'i  c 

The  Works  of  Nature,         .           .                     ;  5i 

The  Young  Consumptive's  Prayer,              .'          .  28 

Time:    An  Acrostic,            .           .           ..          .  3oo 

Tragic  .Scenes  of  Real  Life,      .  80 

Truth, y:: 

Two  Contentious  Boys,            .  -        ..  20-* 

Where  Shall  we  Find  Repose,       ...  !22 


POEMS. 


TRUTH. 

O  Truth,  thou  source  of  never-ending  joy  ! 

O  gift  from  heaven,  which  hand  can  not  destroy, 

Come  thou,  and  in  the  sinful  breast  of  man 

Fix  thine  abode.     So  order,  fit  and  plan, 

That  thou  may'st  build  in  each  and  every  breast 

A  place  fit  for  thy  dwelling  and  thy  rest. 

Teach  him  to  know  thy  worth,  O,  nobler,  far, 

Than  all  that  wealth  can  bring  by  peace  or  war. 

The  golden  dust  that  glitters  on  the  shore, 

Or  costliest  trophies,  drench'd  in  human  gore, 

In  fulness  ne'er  can  be  compared  to  thee, 

O  stream  divine,  whose  source  is  Deity; 

For  thou  canst  make  below  a  heaven  of  earth, 

Could  mortals  know  and  realize  thy  worth. 

But  oh,  how  far  from  thy  bright,  shining  way 
Do  Earth's  indulgent  sons  wander  astray! 
Neglectful  of  thy  precepts,  ever  bright, 
Till  thou  art  lost  to  conscience  and  to  sight : 

O  ' 

And  Vice  and  Sin,  around  their  guardless  heads, 
Pour  down  the  thickest  night — darkness  o'erspreads 
Their  vision— on  they  rush  in  deeper  gloom, 
Till  death  they  meet,  and  tumble  in  the  tomb  ; 

(9) 


IQ  TRUTH. 

A  tomb  disgraced  by  drunkenness  and  crime  ; 
They,  by  corruption  from  the  shores  of  time, 
Shov'd  off  into  a  future  all  unknown, 
Where  dark  Despair  sits  on  his  ebon  throne, 
And  Misery  and  Regret  triumphant  reign, 
And  awful  agony  and  ceaseless  pained 
Send  their  wild  waitings  'round  this  dark  domain. 
For  the  cold  grave  ends  not  the  direful  scene  ; 
Death  seals  their  fate,  and  draws  a  veil  between 
These  everlasting  torments  and  our  eyes, 
And  dark  and  dreadful  there  all  hidden  lies; 
While  those  on  whom  thy  virtues  deign  to  shine, 
Though  few  they  are  compared  with  all  mankind, 
Walk  in  the  light  of  heaven,  and  'round  their  heads 
The  light  of  wisdom  its  effulgence  sheds  ; 
Beaming  in  cloudless  splendor,  and  so  bright 
That  it  the  course  of  life  through  darkest  night 
Illumes,  and  points  them  to  that  narrow  way, 
From  which  so  many  seem  so  prone  to  stray  ; 
The  way  that  brings  serenity  and  rest, 
To  those  who  walk  therein  ;  and  in  each  breast 
Builds  up  a  heaven,  a  pure  and  holy  zeal, 
Which  none  can  e'er  express,  though  they  may  feel- 
Cheers  them  on — o'ercomes  each  threatening  wave, 
Robs  Death  of  fear,  and  shines  into  the  grave  ; 
Showing  beyond,  eternity  all  bright, 
Where  Bliss  and  Pleasure  smile  on  fond  Delight, 
And  everlasting  joys  abundant  flow, 
And  Rapture  sweetly  sings,  to  feel,  and  know, 
That  from  the  throne  of  the  Almighty  God, 
\Vhere  centers  power  from  all  his  works  abroad, 


TRUTH.  11 

Love's  never  failing  streams  forever  pour, 

Where  drink  the  saints  rcnew'd  forever  more, 

With  youthful  life  and  natures  all  divine  ; 

Here,  too,  they  bathe  their  beauteous  forms,  and  shine 

In  splendor  all  anew — joy  in  their  eyes 

And  ecstacies  in  every  niein  ; — they  rise 

And  with  the  voice  of  endless  praise,  thus  given, 

With  hallelujahs  ring  the  courts  of  heaven. 

O  then  !  since  wheresoe'er  thy  lamps  of  Wisdom  shine 

The  sinful  and  the  foul  are  made  divine, 

And  their  iniquity  before  thee  fly 

As  darkness  from  the  earth,  and  air,  and  sky, 

When  morning  light  breaks  in,  the  copse  to  clear, 

And  hydra-headed  crime   abaslvd  with  fear 

Retires  before  thy  gaze — since,  wheresoe'er 

Thy  searching  light  chance  but  to  feebly  glow, 

All  things  licentious  wail  out  in  their  woe  ; 

And  cloth'd  in  their  deceit  flee  from  thy  rays 

In  hurried  flight  to  seek  the  misty  maze, 

To  revel  there  in  drunkenness  and  glee, 

Unwarn'd,  unbridl'd,  unrestrain'd  by  thee, — 

Since  pure  enjoyment  all  thy  footsteps  bring, 

And  at  thy  touch  all  of  our  frailties  spring 

Triumphant  o'er  the  seeming  darkest  gloom — 

Since  thou  can'st  shine  into  the  dismal  tomb  ; 

Why  not  extend  thy  pure  and  purging  light, 

O'er  wide  creation  ;  and  Pollution's  night 

Chase  out  ?  till  neither  place  or  spot  be  found, 

Where  it  could  light  to  spread  its  influence  round  ? 

Till  Vice  from  vast  immensity  shall  flee 


12  an* . 

And  .all  iniquity  be  lost  in  thee  ? 
And  raging  sin  from  earth  be  chased  afar, 
That  she  no  more  may  wage  infernal  war 
With  Virtue's  noble  sons  and  ne'er  again, 
Devour  with  fiendish  rage,  the  souls  of  men, 
Till  trouble,  pain,  and  grief,  shall  pass  away 
As  night's  deep  shade  before  the  king  of  day  ; 
And  ceaseless  pleasure,  love,  and  peace  be  given, 
To  all  below  ;  and  Earth  become  as  heaven. 


SIN. 

Dark  as  the  heaving  tide  that  oceans  roll 
Sin's  awful  burden  hisses  round  the  soul- 
Hides  the  bright  beams  of  Truth  from  every  eye, 
As  gathering  storms  eclipse  the  mid-day  sky. 
And,  fearful,  blighting  as  the  dread  simoon, 
Leaves  the  sick  soul  a  desert,  and  in  gloom  ; 
Upon  whose  burning  sands  each  Virtue's  flower 
Droops  its  fair  head,  and  withers  in  an  hour. 
Far  more  destructive  than  the  upas  tree — 
Death  to  each  noble  deed — to  you,  and  me. 

Dark  Guilt  sits  swimming  in  her  angry  eye, 
And  breathing  Vice,  its  venomed  arrows  fly 
And  fix  themselves  within  the  human  breast, 
Corrupt   the  man,  and  murder   all  his  rest. 
And  as  the  fearful  tempest  tosts  the  main, 
Or,  the  dread  whirl-wind  rudely  sweeps  the  plain 
Prostrating  forests  level  with  the  ground, 


SIN.  13 

So  sin,  each  monument  of  truth  hurls  down  ; 
Our  baser  passions  into  billows  roll, 
Whose  direful  rage  brooks  not  the  least  control, 
Wrecks  Reason,  swallows  Conscience,  and  a  slave 
Drives  on  her  wretched  victims  to  the  grave  ; 
And,  here  a  dark  Eternity  unfolds 
With  Death,  the  key.     Here,  monster  Discord  rolls 
Its  restless  sides  in  awful  wretchedness  and  ire, 
And  Hate  looks  forth  a  thousand  horrors  dire  ; 
And  deep  Corruption,  that  foul  thing,  here  reigns, 
Bathes  in  fierce  wrath,  and  breathes  Satanic  flames. 
Nor  these  alone  the  form  of  misery  wear, 
Numberless  unknown  to  man  in  deep  despair 
Wade  through  the  dismal  gloom,  and  there  drink  in, 
To  quench  their  burning  thirsts,  the  draughts  of  Sin, 
Which  add  to  their  desires  new  cravings  still, 
That  ever  gnaw  insatiate  as  their  will. 
And  Torment,  mad  with  rage,  and  wild  with  pain, 
Sends  his  loud  railing  'round  the  dark  domain. 

Then  whosoe'er  would  shun  these  hateful  scenes, 
Refrain  from  Sin,  and  all  her  artful  schemes  ; 
And  learn,  that  Truth,  and  Faith,  and  Love, 
Are  heavenly  spirits,  from  the  realms  above. 


14     LINES  WRITTEN  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  CHILD. 


LINES  WRITTEN  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG 
CHILD. 

And  is  he  gone— the  lov'd,  the  cherished  one, 

Who  had  life's  journey  merely  just  begun? 

On  whom  fond  parents  look'd  with   rare  delight, 

To  see  him  hale,  intelligent  and  bright, 

Ready  to  meet  their  greetings  with  a  smile  ? 

Ah  yes !  is  gone  !  and  on  that  simple  child 

Pale  Death  has  fixed  for  aye  his  fatal  seal, 

Secure  as  destiny  ;  and  will  not  yield. 

O  Death  !     Why  didst  thou  clip  that  flower  so  young, 

While  life  was  in  the  bud,  and  yet  unsprung 

To  manhood's  prime  ?     Why  in  thy  fatal  aim, 

Crush  so  many  hopes — fond,  alas !  but  vain  ? 

Why  rob  a  tender  mother  of  her  joy  ? 

Or  strip  a  father  of  his  darling  boy  ? 

And  leave  a  station  silent,  lone,  and  still, 

Which  no  one  can  supply,  none  ever  fill  ? 

Alas  !  that  face  shall  at  the  open  door, 

Welcome  his  father's  wished  return,  no  more. 

That  happy,  "  Pa,  Pa,"  from  his  childish  tongue, 

Which  had  such  music  while  it  ling'ring  hung 

On  his  mild  lips,  and  fullness  in  its  tone, 

Has  died  away — ah  yes  !  forever  flown. 

And  those  bright  sunny  smiles  we'll  see  no  more  • 

Nor  hear  his  tales — all  these  are  past  and  o'er. 

And  at  the  table— oh,  that  vacant  seat ! 


THE   WORKINGS   OF   THE   HUMAN   MIND.  15 

How  throbs  a  mother's  heart  when  there  they  meet, 
How  thrills  the  father's  breast  with  aching  pain — 
That  absent  one  with  them  ne'er  meets  again. 
For  cold  and  silent  'neath  the  grassy  sod, 
He  lies  unknown  to  all,  but  heaven  and  God. 


THE  WORKINGS  OF  THE  HUMAN  MIND. 


None  but  to  reason  and  reflection  blind, 

Have  failed  to  watch  the  workings  of  the  mind  ; 

How  thoughts  on  thoughts  if)ll  o'er  the  thinking  soul, 

Each  strengthening  each  ;  each  wielding  its  control ; 

Each  moulded,  yet  is  limitless  and  free  ; 

Each,  having  source,  yet  boundless  as  the  sea. 

Awakened  by  some  thought  that  goes  before, 

Great  waves,  incessant  as  the  ocean's  roar, 

Rush  o'er  the  soul  in  one  continual  strain, 

Now  die  away,  now  surge  the  mental  main  ; 

And,  foaming,  burst    each  barrier,  leap  the  sky, 

And  winged  by  reason,  sped  by  fancy,  fly 

O'er  regions  vast,  unsearched  by  mortal  gaze, 

Dive  through  each  gloom,  and  scan  the  misty  maze  ; 

Then  secretly  retire  into  their  place  of  rest, 

Within  the  safe  retreat,  the  human  breast. 

Thus  every  bosom  howsoe'er  untaught 

Has  been  the  hiding  place  of  deathless  thought, 

That  o'er  the  mind  has  sway'd  a  deep  control, 

Then  hid  within  the  recess  of  the  soul. 


16  THE   WORKINGS   OF  THE   HUMAN  MIND. 

As  when  high  waves  by  tempests  lash'd  to  foam 

Dash  on  the  shore,  then  to  their  secret  home 

Roll  back  within' the  unknown  depths  beneath, 

Silent  and  dark,  only  to  find  relief 

When  by  some  deep  and  stirring  cause  again, 

They're  brought  to  float  upon  the  liquid  plain  ; 

So  thoughts  sink  in  the  chambers  of  the  soul, 

When  others  waking,  brook  the  mind's  control  ; 

Waving  adieu,  they  yield  ;  retire  to  rest ; 

Till  like  emotions  swell  the  human  breast, 

And  touch  the  hidden  spring  ;  when,  forth  they  rise 

In  visions  rich,  of  countless  forms  and  dyes, 

Float  calmly  o'er  the  mirror  of  the  soul, 

And  sparkle  in  the  sunlight,  strange  and  droll  ; 

Or,  billow-like,  when  harness'd  to  the  storm, 

They  dash  along  more  turbulent  in  form  ; 

Thoughts  upon  thoughts  are  pil'd  to  mountain  height  ; 

Or,  driven  into  spray,  they  take  their  flight 

In  forms  unseen,  to  regions  all  unknown  ; 

Yet,  wing  not  these  mysterious  climes  alone; 

But  converse  with  their  kind,  and  mix  and  blend 

In  ways  most  strange,  and  manners  without  end. 

And  as  the  dews,  the  fogs,  the  clouds,  the  spray 

Are  rarefied  by  air,  and  borne  away, 

Again  condensed,  or  into  snows  congeal'd, 

Are  scatter'd  o'er  the  forest  and  the  field; 

Thus  drenching  each  in  copious  showers  of  rain, 

Or  whitening  hill,  the  valley  and  the  plain  ; 

So  thought    diffuse,  condense,  and  in  a  shower, 

Refresh  each  drooping  mental  plant  and  flower  ; 

Or,  frozen  by  despair,  like  falling  snow, 


A   SOLILOQUY.  •    17 

They  throw  o'er  all  a  garb  of  chilling  woe, 

And  as  the  dew  and  frost  cover  the  plain, 

So  thoughts,  the  soul,  and  vanish  as  the  same. 

Strange  are  the  workings  of  the  human  mind 
When  by  emotions  tost,  and  when  resign'd. 
When  by  some  thought  it  once  has  been  impress'd 
And  though  for  years  it  may  in  slumber  rest, 
Some  feeble  act  may  waken  all  the  same, 
And  that  awaken'd,  set  the  soul  on  flame. 
Thus  but  one  thought  into  existence  sprung, 
Though  centuries  roll  on — is  as  when  begun —          „ 
Laid  up  in  the  great  universal  mind, 
And  can  be  call'd  to  act  the  part  design'd. 


A    SOLILOQUY. 


Strange  !   how  my  thoughts  chase  wand'ring  thoughts 

along, 

First  roving  o'er  the  scenes  of  gone  by  days — , 
The  sunny  fields  of  childhood  and  of  youth, 
And  picturing  out  the  image  of  the  past 
In  glowing  hues,  pile    Fancy's  varied  clouds 
To  mountain  height,  some  rich  with  golden  tints, 
And  others,  dark  and  dismal,  lowering  storms  ; 
And,  chasing  up  the  present,  speed  it  by, 
And  scan  the  misty  future;  Hope  their  guide 
And  escort  now,  they  see  her  visions  bright, 
B          1* 


jg  -  A   SOLILOQUY. 

Ten  thousand  joys  and  pleasures  yet  to  come  • 

And  dream  of  future  glories,  future  fame. 

But  wherefore  future  fame,  and  brighter  joys, 

Than  yet  have  ever  shown  or  smiled? 

Is  not  this,  life,,  as  well  as  well  life  untried  ? 

Is  not  the  image  of  the  past  the  same  as  now? 

And  what  the  future  ?     Reason,  answer  what  — 

Aside,  Vain  Famy,  drop  your  giddy  flight, 

Fold  up  your  wings  and  from  the  field  retire, 

While  sounder  sense  bears  sway.     And  what  is  life  ? 

And  these  bright  pictures  ever  fond  to  youth  ? 

Fo»d,  alas,  but  vain — -castles  built  in  air. 

How  many  youths  have  dream'd  the  self-same  dream  ! 

But,  then,  maturer  years  came  on,  and  quench'd 
The  fire  of  their  ambition,  — time  flew  on, 

Age  came,  and  lastly,  death,  and  left  their  dreams 

Unrealized,  ungrounded  all  their  hopes. 

And  why  not  mine  ?     Am  I  unlike  to  them  2 

If  so,  unlike  in  what  ?     Unlike  in  mind, 

In  morals,  energy  and  soul  ?     Alas  ! 

If  this  be  true,  mine  is  the  weaker  part  j 

For  they  as  I  have  felt  the  rising  soul 

Struggling  in  their  breasts  —  felt  the  self-same  glow 

Of  intellect,  the  spring  of  deathless  thought  ; 

Yea,  perhaps,  far  more  — felt  Fancy  take  its  flight 

To  loftier  regions,  and  to  brighter  lands. 

And  rich  Imagination  wider  spread 

Her  thought-plumed  wings  —  felt  Reason  deeper  dive 

And  closer  search  dame  Nature's  wondrous  laws, 

And  felt  within,  as  if  their  breathings  fann'd 

Immortal  fires,  which  by  Ambition  fed 


LINES    WRITTEN    TO   A    BROTHER.  19 

Would  flame  to  heaven  and  light  a  future  world  - 
Saw  all  their  skies  hung  round  with  golden  clouds, 
And  dreamed  they  heard  the  shout  of  loud  applause 
Like  music  rich  ring  in  their  ears.     But  now 
The  trial  comes  ;  they  mingle  with  the  world, 
Sad  disappointment  freezes  up  the  soul, 
Blights  each  fond  hope,  smothers  the  rising  flame, 
Hushes  euphoneous  sounds  of  dream'd-of  praise, 
And  wraps  their  skies  a  chaos  in  the  tomb. 

Since  fleeting,  then,  are  human  hopes  and  joys, 
And  pestering  Care  or  Trial  life  annoys, 
No  more  I'll  strive  to  climb  the  steeps  of  fame, 
But  goodness  now,  not  greatness,  is  my  aim. 


LINES  WRITTEN  TO  A  BROTHER  FROM  WHOM 
THE  AUTHOR  HAD  LATELY  BEEN  SEVERED. 


O  brother  dear,  what  heartfelt,  yearning  ties 
Of  deep  affection  —  what  emotions  rise 
When  I  review  the  scenes  when  we  were  young, 
AVhile  yet  our  prattle  fell  from  boyish  tongues  ; 
Or  with  our  voices  made  the  hills  resound, 
That  we  might  list  to  the  returning  sound. 
When  we  together  slept,  together  rose, 
Together  labor'd  from  the  dawn  to  close 
Of  each  returning  day,  and  there  conversed 
On  various  themes,  or  each  by  turns  rehears'd 


20  LINES   WRITTEN   TO   A   BROTHER. 

Some  favored  sentiment  or  lofty  thought 

Express'd  by  gifted  bards,  which  we  had  sought 

To  train  the  voice  and  cultivate  our  minds, 

Whose  powers  oft-times  broke  loose  from  earth's  confines, 

And  soar'd  aloft  to  bright  and  heavenly  climes, 

Where  world  to  world  in  endless  glory  shines  ; 

Or,  when  we  roved  the  fields  in  sportive  play, 

Or,  with  our  dog,  poor  Rover,  sped  away 

To  scout  the  woody  thicket  and  the  plain, 

And  catch  with  boyish  joy  the  roving  game  ; 

Or,  from  the  bank  our  hooks  and  lines  we  threw 

Into  the  dark,  still  stream,  and  there  outdrew 

The  bouncing  trout  with  rare  and  eager  joy  ; 

Or,  when  our  hands  found  not  elsewhere  employ, 

Through  distant  woods  we  lin'd  the  humming  bee, 

To  find  his  luscious  store,  and  then  as  free 

To  rob  the  busy  toiler  of  that  store, 

And  then  with  joy  renew'd  to  hunt  for  more. 

And  when  mild  Spring  resum'd  her  gentle  reign. 
Dissolving  snows  that  whitenYl  all  the  plain, 
With  what  unbounded  joy  we  hail'd  that  day, 
As  to  the  neighboring  woods  we  made  our  way, 
Where  willing  hearts  our  ready  hands  employ'd 
To  range  the  bush,  where  we  oft  life  enjoy'd 
To  fullest  flow  —  to  roam  the  forest  free 
And  gather  sweets  from  each  appropriate  tree. 
And  there,  when  much  engaged  in  busy  toil, 
And  both  attending  at  the  place  we  boil'd, 
We  gave  our  boyish  thoughts  to  the  rude  wild, 
With  in-born  youthful  eloquence,  and  smil'd 


LINES   WRITTEN    TO    A   BROTHER.  21 

hooting  owls  return'd  a  loud  reply, 
Then  mock'd  with  ready  tongues  their  clamorous  cry. 
And  when  deep  night  envelop'd  earth  in  shade, 
We,  lab'ririg  by  the  light  our  fire  blaze  made, 
Summ'd  up  the  ready  profits  of  the  trade, 
And  joy'd  to  find  they  had  so  richly  paid. 

And  then,  again,  when  time  on  fleetest  wing, 
To  smiling  Summer  chas'd  the  months  of  Spring, 
We,  side  by  side,  toil'd  in  the  verdant  field, 
Reaping  the  rich  productions  Nature  yields 
For  man's  support ;  till  finally  we  found 
Our  labor  with  an  ample  harvest  crown'd. 
In  those  bright,  sunny  days  alike  we  far'd> 
What  one  enjoy'd,  the  other  also  shar'd. 

But  O  !  what  feelings  spring  without  control  - 
What  thoughts  roll  back  upon  the  pond'ring  soul ! 
When  I  consider  all  these  scenes  are  o'er, 
That  we  as  boys  shall  meet  again  no  more 

O  brother  !  you  were  ever  to  me  dear, 

The  accents  of  your  voice  I  loved  to  hear, 

And  ofttimes  when  in  crowds,  and  when  alone  ' 

I've  leap'd  for  joy  to  hear  the  noble  tone 

From  your  kind  lips,  which  spake  that  you  were  near, 

And  can  you  tell  me  why,  my  brother  dear  ? 

Except  that  wheresoe'cr  we  came  or  went, 

To  me  your  counsel,  and  your  aid  were  lent; 

To  you  I  look'd  as  one  to  be  my  shield; 

On  ev'ry  question,  I  to  you  appeal'd  ; 


22  LINES   WRITTEN    TO   A   BROTHER. 

You  watch'd  my  parting  steps  and  ray  return- 
On  whatsoe'er  I  did,  yon  look'd  with  deep  concern  ; 
And  when  pale  Sickness  sat  upon  my  brow 
You  watch'd  beside  my  bed  ;  and,  brother,  how 
Rejoic'd  in  soul  was  I  to  see  you  there, 
Mov'd  with  such  tender  sympathy  and  care. 
And  still  they  have  an  impress  on  the  heart  ; 
And,  now,  in  life's  pursuits,  what !  must  we  part  ? 
And,  marching  on,  diverging  courses  take 
Wide  sever'd  by  the  bustling  vjorld  ;  and,  make 
The  long  adieu  to  those  paternal  laws, 
For  which  we  labor'd  in  one  common  cause  ? 
O  yes  !  deep-toned  necessities  now  loudly  call — 
Farewell  then,  happy  scenes — farewell  to  all ! 
Farewell,  sweet  childhood  days  !  and,  youth,  farewell ! 
Come,  you,  maturer  years  let  Fortune  tell 
What  the  sure  destiny  of  each  must  be  ; 
Unroll  the  scroll  of  fate,  that  we  may  see 
Its  secrets  dark,  in  future  now  conceal'd, 
But,  through  the  present,  soon  to  be  reveal'd. 
O,  Manlius,  since  then  we  can  not  sway 
Time  in  the  least,  nor  bid  one  moment  stay, 
Let  us  improve  those  moments  as  they  fly  ; 
That,  when  at  last  we're  call'd  upon  to  die, 
We  may  look  back,  and  happily  exclaim, 
"  Welcome,  O  Death,  we  have  not  liv'd  in  vain." 
And  may  the  record  of  the  days  then  fled 
Be  as  a  roll  of  honor  for  the  dead. 

And  may  Affection's  ties  be  with  us  still, 
Uniting  heart  with  heart,  though  vale  and  hill. 


THE    PLEASANT   WIFE.  23 

And  lakes  and  rivers  may  our  walks  divide, 

And  even  seas  and  oceans  heaving  wide, 

Roll  their  boundless  bulks  between,  still  may  we, 

The  same  unchanging,  constant,  brothers  be. 

And  though  cold  Death  should  sever,  and  the  grave 

Lock  up  that  form,  which  none  on  earth  could  save, 

O  may  we  be  prepar'd,  at  last  to  meet, 

As  brothers,  at  Jehovah's  mercy  seat ; 

And  there  forever  joined  in  love;  to  sing 

The  endless  praise  of  Our  Eternal  King. 


THE  PLEASANT  WIFE. 


Amid  the  many  scenes  of  varied  life, 

There's  none  more  pleasant  than  the  pleasant  wife  ; 

Whose  grateful  heart  is  ever  flowing  o'er, 

With  gushings  fond  and  pure  ;  and  at  whose  door 

Contentment  smiles,  as  she  doth,  ever  free; 

If  such  there  are,  a  like  one  be  for  me. 

For,  in  my  many  wand'rings  here  and  there, 

I've  seen,  the  tidy,  sluttish,  homely,  fair  ; 

The  brawling,  still,  the  modest  and  the  bold, 

The  stupid,  and  the  bright,  the  full  whole  soul'd, 

Half  soul'd,  and  those  with  souls  so  very  small 

You  could  not  say  they  had  a  soul  at  all. 

Heard  the  light  step  ;  and,  then  the  one  let  fall, 

That  rang  with  double  echoes  through  the  hall — 

The  awkward,  ill-made  dress — locks  illy  strown, 


24  THE   PLEASANT   WIFE. 

That  soklom  scrap'd  acquaintance  with  the  comb, 
Or  else  arranged  in  such  a  curious  taste, 
They,  like  herself,  seemed  ever  out  of  place. 
And  then  a  fault  I've  seen  in  other  girls, 
A  head  disordered  with  unnumber'd  curls, 
And  then  the  jetty  black,  or,  auburn  light, 
Around  a  smiling  face,  arrang'd  just  right ; 
So  that  had  Fancy  re-arranged  the  fair, 
Her  skillful  fingers  ne'er  would  moved  a  hair. 

Each  one  of  these  is  index  to  the  soul  ; 

Their  kitchens,  parlors,  future  homes  unfolds ; 

The  one  if  enter'd,  dark  confusions  rise, 

And  pour  a  thousand  discords  in  our  eyes  ; 

Mops,  brooms  and  rags  are  scatter'd  here  and  there, 

And  dirty  faces,  with  a  youthful  stare, 

Which  scamps,  have  hammers,  tongs,  bowls  or  more, 

Which  with  themselves,  they  tumble  o'er  the  floor  ; 

Perhaps,  a  chair  or  two  are  on  the  table, 

And  they,  the  'doll  are  rocking  in  the  ladle. 

And  if  a  well-known  voice,  distinct  and  clear, 

Says,  "Can't  you  have  better  order  here,  my  dear?" 

Thunder  from  her  mouth  and  lightning  from  her  eye 

In  shapen'd  accents  give  a  keen  reply  : 

"  Mind  your  own  concerns — I  wish  that  these  young 

brats 

Could  be  with  you,  misplacing  this  and  that — 
Turning  topsy-turvy  whatsoe'er  they  reach  ; 
And  then,  see  how  much  longer  you  would  preach    ' 
About  good  order  ;  fault-finding,  grumbling  man, 
A  goddess  could  not  please  you — would,  my  land  ! 


THE    PLEASANT   WIFE.  25 

You  had  some  to  deal  with — then  see  you  splitter 
But  I  guess  they'd  learn  you,  to  keep  your  ground.'' 
O  let  us  leave — free  me  from  such  a  lot, 
If  Fortune  chance  to  give  ;  but,  may  she  not. 

Now,  let  us  view  the  oilier  home  ;  else  where, 

Whose  mistress  was  the  maid  with  neat  comb'd  hair. 

Whose  step  was  light  and  bounding,  and  whose  eye 

Look'd  forth  keen  sprightliness  and  melody. 

Behold  it  resting  in  the  vale  below, 

Oe'ertopp'd  with  trees  ;  itself,  as  white  as  snow — 

Rap  at  the  door — the  same  light  step  draws  near, 

And  one  bright  face  now  bids  you  welcome  here. 

Which  face  bespeaks,  within,  a  noble  soul 

And  feasts  the  eye  untiring  to  behold. 

But,  look  about,  in  every  nook  and  place — 

See,  everything  arranged  in  perfect  taste, 

And  Prudence  rules,  dispelling  sluttish  Waste. 

Perhaps,  a  table  with  a  cloth  of  snow, 

And  knives  and  dishes  of  inviting  glow, 

Are  now  preparing  for  a  coming  meal, 

And  while  they  are,  a  few  short  glances  steal 

From  out  the  pantry  through  the  open  door, 

See,  all  is  neatness  here  — yea,  more, 

Look  !  here's  a  shelf  with  such  a  rich  supply 

That  sure  might  feast  the  mouth  as  well  as  eye, 

And  in  the  one,  if  you  're  one  whit  like  me, 

Would  cause  the  glands  about  to  water  free. 

But,  linger  not  too  long  that  wishful  look, 

Le§t  you  betray  suspicions  from  the  cook  ; 

But  mark  her,  as  she  glides  before  your  eyes, 


2fi  O   LIBERTY,  WHY   SLUMBER   LONG? 

Like  some  fair  spirit  from  the  upper  skies, 
Whate'er  her  fingers^  chance  to  touch,  meanwhile, 
Looks  up  rejoic'd,  and  seems  to  breathe  a  smile, 
And  one  breaks  forth  in  rapturous  strains  of  glee. 
I  mean  that  neat-clad  child,  gay,  wild  and  free, 
Blooming  in  loveliness,  a  matchless  prize, 
With  much  of  heaven  sparkling  in  its  eyes  ; 
And,  as  you  stoop  to  snatch  a  nectar'd  kiss, 
Your  heart  exclaims,   "  What  a  fair  home  is  this  !  " 
What  mighty  contrasts  stretch  themselves  between 
The  one  before  us  and  the  one  just  seen. 

Young  ladies,  then,  we  say  to  you,   "  Beware  ! 
A  kindred  contrast  looks  from  out  your  hair," 
"Right  here  the  seeds  of  wheat  and  tares  are  sown, 
Pluck  out  the  tares  or  they  will  soon  be  grown." 

Nor  think,  young  gents,  "  It  rests  with  these  alone," 
Wrong  acts  from  you  may  turn  a  heart  to  stone, 
And  you  may  bid  a  budding  heart  to  bloom 
Or  quench  a  spirit's  rosy  morn  in  gloom  — 
Can  make  a  smiling  field  a  dreary  place, 
Or  plant  a  garden  in  a  desert  waste. 


O   LIBERTY,  WHY   SLUMBER  LONG  ? 

O  sacred  Liberty  !  why  longer  wear 

Those  galling  chains  which  proud  aspirants  dare 

To  rivet  on  ?    Why  not,  with  strength  arise, 


O   LIBERTY1,   WHY   SLUMBER  LONG?  27 

Thy  undivided  strength,  which  deeply  lies 

In  every  breast ;  and  doth  thy  foes  despise ? 

Thy  hated  fetters  burst,  and  to  the  skies 

Thy  banners  wave  o'er  continent  and  sea. 

This  motto  bearing  forth,   "  I  will  be  free  ?  " 

And  by  thy  giant  arm,  with  matchless  power, 

Bid  tyrants  tremble,  and  the  bigot  cower, 

Lift  high  the  gleaming  steel,  and  in  its  fall, 

Kings  in  their  blood  shall  lie,  and  princes  call 

For  mercy  at  thy  hand.     But  stop  not  here  — 

Earth  owns  thee  hcr's  —  to  human  hearts  more  deal 

Than  all  that  wealth  can  bring,  or,  famed  renown. 

The  power  of  Emp'rors,  thrones  and  glittering  crowns 

Shall  fall  in  ruins  when  thou  dost  appear, 

Injustice  arm'd,  proclaiming  in  each  ear 

The  injured  rights  of  man.     Before  thy  might 

Then  tyranny  shall  fly,  as  shades  of  night 

Before  the  orb  of  day  ;  but  not  again, 

As  dark,  deep  night  to  hold  its  dreary  reign  ; 

But  broken  links  of  shackles  and  of  chains 

Shall  scatter'd  lie  as  dews  upon  the  plains  ; 

They  too  as  morning  dews  to  pass  away 

When  shines  the  glorious  sun  of  Freedom's  day. 

Bear  then  the  signal  forth,  rouse  long  crush'd  right, 
And  in  its  cause  press  omvard  to  the  fight ; 
Free  the  oppress'd,  break  every  slaver's  band, 
Take  off  each  yoke,  and  free  each  fetter'd  hand  ; 
Press  to  the  glorious  cause  —  right  onward  —  till 
All  shall  be  free  —  to  think,  and  act,  and  will. 


THE  YOUNG  CONSUMPTIVE'S  PRAYER 


O  Monster  !  great  destroyer  of  mankind  ! 

Thou  Victor  robed  in  death  !  can  I  resign 

My  vital  life  to  thee  ?    Thy  will  obey, 

And  for  thy  sake  dissolve  this  form  to  clay  ? 

Is  there  no  power  can  wrest  me  from  thy  grasp  ? 

Relieve  my  heart  from  thy  all-withering  clasp? 

Ah  me  !     If  there's  a  power  on  earth  can  save, 

Or  one  resort,  except  the  silent  grave, 

On  thee  I  call ;  let  not  this  youthful  breath 

So  soon  be  quench'd  in  the  dark  vault  of  death  ; 

Let  not  this  flame  of  life  thus  die  away 

And  change  to  darkest  night  this  living  day  ; 

But  bkl  me  live  and  life's  rich  blessings  share, 

Till  age  shall  blanch  these  locks  and  me  prepare 

A  fitted  subject  for  that  common  end, 

Where  kings  and  vassals  meet,  and  mix,  and  blend, 

And  blending,  mingle  with  the  common  earth, 

What  life  held  up  far  sever'd  in  their  birth  ; 

Some,  heirs  to  untold  wealth,  and  powers  and  thrones, 

Others,to  want,  and  pain,  and  fleshless  bones  ; 

But  prayers  are  vain  ;  ere  Spring  shall  clothe  the  trees 

In  verdant  robes,  perhaps  I  rest  with  these. 

Farewell  then  Earth,  and  all  thy  much-loved  bloom, 
Soon  I  must  leave  thee  for  the  silent  tomb. 


LIFE.  29 


LIFE. 


Life  is  a  checkered  scene  and  tilled  with  snares  ; 

To-day,  perhaps,  it  leads  through  flow'ry  paths, 

To-morrow,  through  a  desert  dark  with  gloom. 

Ever  and  anon  prosperity  lights  up 

Our  happy  way,  and,  arching  overhead, 

The  azure  blue  is  hung  with  golden  clouds, 

And  the  bright  diadems  of  hope  look  out 

From  their  fair  heavenly  homes,  and  smile;  and  love, 

Sweet  solace,  weeps,  but  tears  of  joy, 

And  all  seems  wrapp'd  in  pleasure's  well  wrought  garb, 

To  shape  such  visions  as  might  bless  the  soul. 

But  soon  dark,  threat'ning  clouds  arise  and  hang 

About  their  sable  forms,  quench  hope's  bright  stars 

Amid  the  gathering  gloom  of  thickest  night,  — 

Wild  tempests  howling,  sweep  o'er  storm-wrecked  skies, 

And  on  each  angry  cloud  we  read,    "  Despair  !  " 

Each  gale  comes  laden  with  a  deeper  woe, 

And  disappointments  often  sigh  between  ; 

Bright  gleams  the  ire  of  our  antagonists 

About  as  fierce  chain'd  lightnings  'mid  the  storm  — 

Opposing  voices  thunder  in  our  ears, 

And  dread  tornadoes  whhTd  by  furious  care, 

Now  threat'ning  ruin,  level  every  joy. 

But  soon  the  storm-cloud  bursts  upon  our  heads, 


30  LIFE. 

And  spends  its  wrath  in  gales  of  doubts  and  fears  ; 
Then  once  again  comes  in  the  light  of  heaven  - 
The  tempest  dies  away,  and  breezes  soft, 
Whispering  peace  and  hope,  fan  our  feverd  brows, 
And  wake  along  our  path  the  drooping  flowers 
Of  life's  long  cherished  joys.     Pleas'd,  these  look  up 
And  welcome  our  approach.     But  next  there  comes 
A  frost  —  nips  those  invigorated  plants, 
Each  tiny  bud  of  hope,  ere  scarce  reviv'd, 
And  leaves  our  field  of  promise,  once  so  fair 
(All  rob VI  in  garbs  of  living  green,  made  soft 
By  dews  and  showers),  a  dark  and  dreary  scene; 
Quenches  ambition's  noblest  zeal,  and  each 
Fair  vision  blights  in  bud  and  bloom. 

And  thus  is  life,  forever  changing,  till, 

The  last  sad  change  ;  now  borne  by  prosperous  winds, 

O'er  mirror'd  seas  nnrippFd  by  the  waves, 

Reflecting  heaven  as  tranquil  o'er  our  heads  ; 

Then  turns,  and  rolls  the  billows  of  our  seas 

To  mountain  height ;  and  from  the  darkened  West 

Surges  the  wind,  bearing  the  muttering  storm 

In  threatening  aspect,  soon  to  burst  its  wrath 

Upon  our  feeble  barque.     When,  all  at  once, 

Death's  fearful  whirlpool  opens  underneath, 

And  down  we  sink,  engulf  d  within  the  tomb. 


A  VISIT  TO  THE   SCENES   OF  CHILDHOOD.  31 


LINES  WRITTEN  ON  A  VISIT  TO  THE  SCENES 
OF  CHILDHOOD. 


I  came  to  the  scenes  of  my  childhood  once  more, 
The  hills  and  the  vales  I  familiarly  knew, 

But  so  changed  were  their  looks  they  seem'd  not  the  same, 
For  years  had  fled  by  since  the  picture  I  drew. 

What !  changed, did  I  say  ?     O  yes  !  so  are  we  ! 

And  drifted  away  from  the  old  cherish'd  line  ; 
From  the  moorings  of  boyhood  borne  out  to  sea, 

Unconsciously  borne  on  the  billows  of  time. 

The  bay  of  my  youth  I  shall  cruise  in  no  more  ; 
On  that  lovely  shore  never  more  will  I  gaze  — 

With  me  all  those  pleasures  and  raptures  are  o'er, 
Way  out  on  the  ocean  of  life's  latter  days. 

Standing  out  on  life's  sea,   "  O  where  shall  we  land 
Or  anchor  ?  "  intrusively  steals  on  the  mind  ; 

By  the  breath  of  God's  spirit  graciously  fann'd 
May  we  regions  of  bliss,  eternal  bliss  find. 


32  FASHION   AND   HEALTH. 


FASHION   AND   HEALTH. 


As  Fashion  one  day  in  her  gay,  gaudy  chair 

Sat  busily  twisting  and  curling  her  hair, 

A  mirror,  reflecting  each  curl  and  each  grace, 

Returned  to  herself  her  pale,  wanned  face; 

Her  delicate  fingers,  encircled  with  rings, 

And  jewels  and  ribbons  and  many  fine  things 

Adorned  her  fair  person,  while  down  by  her  side 

Hung  a  long  silken  skirt  and  flowing  as  wide  ; 

On  her  delicate  foot,  a  tight-fitted  shoe, 

Neither  soiled  by  the  dust,  nor  dampened  with  dew  ; 

Her  small,  rounded  nostrils,  that  some  would  call  fair, 

Showed  scarcely,  if  ever,  she  had  snuffed  the  free  air ; 

Her  snug-girted  waist  and  tightly-stayed  form 

Would  have  shown  (if  nature  had  made)  she  was  born 

Not  to  breathe  the  wild  gale,  or  brave  the  rude  storm, 

But  ever,  anon  if  she  chanced  to  sigh, 

Stays,  hooks,  or  buttons,  or  something  must  fly  ; 

And  one,  seeing  these,  and  her  cheeks  daubed  and  dyed, 

Would  quickly  have  known  that  her  god  was  her  pride. 

While  she  was  thus  sitting,  admiring  her  skill 
To  'range  her  fair  tresses  to  suit  her  vain  will, 
Plump,  brave,  ruddy  Health,  with  her  cheeks  all  in  bloom, 
In  her  free,  laughing  way,  bounced  into  the  room. 
Vain  Fashion  looked  up  and  scornfully  smiled  ; 


FASHION   AND   HEALTH.  33 

Then  Health  thus  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  shrill  and  wild, 
"  Take  off  these  vain  fixings,  your  frail  form  unbind, 
And  do  not  be  longer  thus  vainly  confined. 
This  painting  the  cheeks  and  dressing  the  hair, 
And  girting  the  waist  to  make  slender  and  spare, 
And  keeping  indoors,  never  breathing  fresh  air, 
To  make  yourself  weakly,  frail,  pallid  and  fair, 
Till  one  could  scarce  touch,  if  desiring  to  do, 
Those  locks  that  dame  Nature  has  given  .to  you, 
Without  soiling  his  fingers  or  greasing  their  tips, 
Or  kiss  your  fair  cheeks  without  blistering  his  lips; 
Or  place  his  fond  arm  'round  your  light-moulded  form, 
Without  knowing  that  stays  was  all  that  adorned,— 
Is  shameful,  disgusting,  a  sin  in  extreme. 
Think  admirers  you  gain  ?     'Tis  all  a  vain  dream  ; 
Throw  off  these  death  bonds  and  breathe  the  fresh  air, 
And  the  rose  on  your  cheeks  will  blossom  more  fair 
Than  carmine  can  paint,  or  art  can  devise. 
Consider,  Miss  Fashion,  reflect  and  be  wise." 

While  Health  was  thus  speaking,  Miss  Fashion,  in  ire, 
Looked  indignant,  and  sat  with  eyes  flashing  fire  ; 
Now  rose  from  her  chair,  with  a  dark-lowering  mien, 
Exclaimed  "'Vile  presumption  !  think  you  I'm  so  green  ?  " 
And,  foaming  with  rage,  seized  Health  with  her  hands 
And  swayed  her  strong  form,  as  waves  do  the  sands  ; 
And  it  seemed  for  awhile,  to  Fashion's  vain  will, 
That  Health  must  succumb  and  forever  keep  still. 
And  oftentimes  thus,  when  falsehoods  assail, 
We  seem  to  be  vanquished,  but  "  truth  will  prevail." 
So  Health,  when  False  Fashion  had  spent  all  her  strength, 
C 


34  EVENING   MEDITATION. 

Collected  her  powers,  rose  up  and,  at  length, 
Seized  her  rival  in  hand  and  bowed  her  frail  form, 
As  a  pale,  sickly  plant  is  bowed  by  the  storm  ; 
But  hooks  bursting  off  and  stays  giving  way, 
Miss  Fashion  cried  out,  "Hold  on,  Miss  !  fair  play  !' 
But  Health,  heeding  not,  she  began  to  implore, 
As  hooks,  stays  and  bracelets  flew  over  the  floor. 
At  this  scene  of  relief,  Health  joyfully  smiled, 
And  here  left  proud  Fashion  for  once  a  free  child. 


EVENING   MEDITATION. 

Hail,  gentle  hours  of  inspiration  sweet, 
When  earth,  within  the  arms  of  downy  sleep, 
Is  lulled  to  rest,  and  night's  profoundest  shade 
Rests  on  the  hill,  the  forest  and  the  glade  ; 
When  eve  has  stretched  her  star-bespangled  bine, 
And,  clothed  in  meekness,  weeps  her  crystal  dew  ; 
When  angels,  stooping  from  the  courts  above, 
Whisper  in  every  breeze  accents  of  love. 
What  thoughts,  ennobling,  rise  within  the  breast, 
Diffusing  light,  that  leave  a  sweet  impress 
At  such  an  hour,  when  heaven  and  silent  earth 
Exhale  a  thousand  inspirations  forth, 
That  drop  into  the  long  desiring  heart 
A  balm  that  other  scenes  can  ne'er  impart. 
Life  is  hushed  ;  profoundest  silence  reigns, 
Sits  on  the  hills  and  hovers  o'er  the  plains, 


EVENING   MEDITATION.  35 

And  gentle  harmony,  with  holy  tie, 

Folds  in  her  arms  the  earth,  the  air,  the  sky. 

Yon  fleeting  cloud,  like  some  fair  spirit,  seems 

Intently  hovering  o'er,  and  gazing  on  the  scene  ; 

And  yon  pale  star  beholds  the  embrace  meanwhile, 

And  from  above  waves  down  a  lingering  smile. 

The  gilded  north,  the  south,  the  east,  the  west 

Are  in  a  robe  of  lofty  grandeur  dressed  ; 

In  field  and  forest,  amply  spread  abroad, 

We  read,  "Behold  the  workmanship  of  God  !" 

Aurora  borealis  lights  the  sky 

And  whispers,  "Love  !  wonder  !  beauty  !  mystery  ! ' 

Yon  galaxy,  all  paved  with  dazzling  suns, 

Where  worlds  with  worlds  seem  clustered  into  one, 

And  that  a  wreath,  hung  'round  the  brow  of  Time 

(Who,  in  the  circling  heavens,  rides  sublime), 

Has  such  undying,  quenchless  splendors  strown, 

That  shame  bright  Beauty,  even,  on  her  throne. 

While  heaven  displays  her  grandeur  from  above, 
Wide  earth  lies  slumb'ring  in  the  lap  of  love. 

O.  if  there's  aught  can  swell  the  human  soul, 
Burst  th'  sordid  chain,  and  volumes  rich  unroll, 
'Tis  nature,  silent  nature,  like  as  now, 
In  her  nocturnal  robe,  and  on  her  brow 
The  coronet  of  worlds  ;  and  if,  to  me, 
There's  aught  can  bring  true  pleasure,  'tis  to  see 
God's  impress  stamped  upon  each  object  'round, 
When  busy  life  is  hashed  in  sleep  profound. 


36  EVENING   MEDITATION. 

The  ocean,  lashed  by  tempest  into  foam  ; 

The  fierce,  chained  lightnings,  from  their  fiery  throne, 

In  anger  gleaming  forth  with  dazzling  forms  ; 

The  muttering  thunder,  answering  from  the  storm  ; 

Niagara,  rushing  in  her  fearful  ire  ; 

And  ^Etna,  launching  forth  her  rocks  of  fire,— 

Each  may  fill  the  soul  with  dread  surprise. 

And  with  amazement  feast  the  gazing  eyes  ; 

Roll  up  the  stagnant  waters  of  the  soul 

To  view,  with  lofty  fear,  and  converse  hold 

With  awful  nature's  God,  while  wonder  strange 

Thrills  our  full  hearts  and  creeps  along  our  vein?  ; 

But  scenes  like  these,  diffused  with  God's  own  love, 

When  Peace  celestial  hovers  from  above, 

Stir  up  emotions  holier  in  the  soul, 

And  strike  a  finer  cord  ;  without  control, 

Call  inspiration's  noblest  feelings  forth. 

That  mix  and  sweetly  blend  with  heaven  and  earth. 

Wake  up  that  principle  divine  within, 

That  tells  us  what  we  truly  are,  akin 

To  that  great  Power  who  paints  the  rainbow's  hue, 

Robes  earth  in  green,  and  studs  the  azure  blue. 

There  is  a  voice  of  charms,  though  never  heard, 
A  sight,  though  never  seen,  is  still  endear'd  ; 
That  voice  is  God,  now  whispering  in  the  heart  ; 
That  sight,  his  love,  known  to  the  nobler  part, 
Which  brighter  glows  at  the  still  hour  of  night, 
Bathes  our  immortal  nature  in  its  light, 

o 

And  points  the  way  to  heaven.     Ye  vain  and  proud, 
Who  love  the  world,  and  who,  in  laughter  loud 


EVENING   MEDITATION.  37 

Seek  merriment ;  who  the  broad  circle  fill 

Of  fickle  Pleasure's  dizzy  round,  whose  will 

Is  bent  on  revelry  and  factious  mirth  ; 

Ye  who  at  mammon  bow,  and  deem  his  worth 

The  only  source  of  joy  !  O  come  and  view! 

And  taste  a  sweeter  pleasure,  far,  than  you 

Have  e'er  before.     Roll  back  the  misty  cloud 

That  long  has  veil'd  your  skies  as  in  a  shroud, 

And  let  the  light  break  in  —  dispel  the  gloom, 

And,  rosy-like,  bid  pure  Devotion  bloom. 

Let  Truth's  fair  diamond  brightened,  catch  the  fire, 

And  glowing,  soul,  and  heart,  and  mind  inspire  ; 

And  as  an  eagle  bound,  rending  each  tie, 

Bid  thought  break  loose  and  soar  into  the  sKy. 

O  ye,  who  often  quaff  the  sparkling  bowl, 
Which  drains  your  very  vitals  out  —  O  hold  ! 
Here  is  a  sweeter  draught  than  wine  can  give  ; 
Nor  is  Death  written  here,  but  "Drink  and  live." 
This  very  silence,  so  sublimely  still, 
(If  rightly  view'd,)  may  your  own  spirits  till 
With  purer,  holier,  sweeter  joys  within, 
Than  you  can  find  in  the  wide  walks  of  sin. 
The  sparkling  wave  may  feast  a  greedy  maw, 
By  shameful  lust  depriv'd  of  nature's  law  ; 
The  midnight  feast  may  gratify  a  taste, 
Long  since  abandon'd  to  a  worse  than  waste. 
But  here  the  crystal  stream  of  life  flows  by 
From  a  celestial  source  —  from  God  on  high  ; 
And  those  who  drink,  shall  drink  of  bliss  refin'd. 
And  those  who  bathe  shall  purify  the  mind. 


38  THE   FORGED   WILL. 

Here,  too,  is  food  celestial  for  the  soul, 
Made  free  to  all  and  unexchanged  for  gold. 

Then  why  not  come  at  such  an  holy  hour, 
When  sweet  enchantment  lends  her  gentle  power, 
Come  forth  and  learn  when  evening  walks  abroad 
To  drink  rich  draughts  from  nature's  fount—from  God? 


THE  FORGED   WILL. —A   SOLILOQUY. 

Written  on  an  occurrence  which  took  place  in  the  State  of  Penn 
sylvania  about  the  year  1845,  the  history  of  which  is  as  follows  :  A 
man  of  wealth  died,  leaving  two  sons  and  one  daughter,  which 
daughter  had  married  against  his  wishes  ;  and  in  order  to  disinherit 
her  had  left  a  will  transferring  his  property  equally  to  his  two  sons. 
The  eldest  son  seized  and  destroyed  his  father's  will,  and  forged 
another,  conveying  all  of  the  property  to  himself,  save  a  few  worth 
less  articles.  This  so  enraged  the  second  son  that  he  resolved  to  kill 
his  brother  for  revenge  ;  and  knowing  that  one  moonlight  night  he 
was  to  pass  on  an  unfrequented  path  through  a  dense  hemlock  wood, 
he  here  watched  for,  and  killed  him,  and  afterward,  near  this  same 
spot,  on  the  same  night,  killed  himself.  The  poem  makes  him 
soliloquising  after  the  murder  and  before  the  suicide. 

At  length  this  desperate  fratricide  is  done, 

And  added  to  the  catalogue  of  crimes 

One  murder  more.     And  one  more  voice  in  woe 

And  writhing  anguish,  crying  loud, 

Rides  through  the  fiery  gulf  of  flaming  hell. 

Roll  on,  thou  voice  of  my  curs'd  brother's  blood, 

Thy  groans  are  fondest  music  in  my  ear, 


THE   FORGED   WILL.  39 

And  thy  miseries,  O  lost  spirit,  are  my  joys. 

Thou  wouldst  have  made  me  wretched  here  on  earth, 

Now  I  have  thee,  in  death,  eternal  death; 

Thanks  to  high  heaven  that  I  am  thus  aveng'd, 

And  the  cold  ashes  of  my  father,  for  this  wrong, 

This  fiendish  wrong,  to  thus  with  villain's  hands 

To  seize  and  wantonly  destroy  the  Will 

His  own  pale,  trembling,  death-struck  hands  had  seal'd ; 

And  then  to  write  another,  saying,  all 

To  him,  and  none  to  me,  save  a  poor  mule  ; 

O  monster-hearted  villain,  forging  lies  ! 

Where  are  your  false-got  riches  now  ?     Sold  are 

Your  lands  to  buy  you  an  inheritance  more  fit 

In  Pandemonium,  where  like  monsters  dwell, 

There  hated,  moan,  and  endless  tortures  rack  thee 

In  hell's  forged  chains  for  forgery  on  earth. 

Ah,  glad  am  I  to  witness  this  day's  deeds, 
Though  they  to-morrow  punish  me  with  death  ; 
For  death  I  would  prefer,  by  far,  than  sec 
Him  freely  rev'ling  in  his  ill-got  gains, 
And  tickling  at  his  cunning  in  deceit. 

0  sought  revenge,  how  sweet  a  thing  thou  art  ! 

1  lick  my  brother's  blood  from  thy  right  hand. 
Ye  gloaming  hemlock  shades  wave  o'er  his  corse, 
And  form  his  only  pall  ,  and  ye  wild  winds, 
Sweep  through  these  boughs  and  howl  his  requiem ; 
And  ye  wide  heavens,  hide  with  these  your  face, 
Nor  weep  one  crystal  tear  —  nor  I.     Worms  feed 
Upon  his  flesh,  and  maggots  glut,  and  each 
By-passing  breeze  bear  otf  the  baneful  stench. 


40  THE   FORGED   WILL. 

But,  lo  !  what  misty  form  beams  on  the  sight, 

Just  in  the  rising  moonlight  gleaming  ? 
Some  ghostly  spirit  haunts  these  scenes  to-night  ; 

But  let  me  see  !     Is  not  this  dreaming  ? 
Oh  no !  too  real  all  things,  far,  appear  — 

These  boughs  above  me,  and  the  shades  below, 
And  many  deep  convictions  rising  here, 

With  Reason,  treble-voiced,  all  answer,   "No  !  " 

But  see  !  it  nears  me  —  swoons  away  my  soul, 

And  sinks  within  me  this  my  beating  heart  ; 
Wild  terrors  drink  my  blood,  how  strange  and  droll, 

Thou  demon  of  the  night,  depart,  depart  ! 
Why  come  you  here  at  this  deep,  solemn  hour, 

Leagued  with  the  dead  to  (with  a  secret  power) 
Dissolve  in  sorrow  my  revengeful  will  ! 

O  my  dead  brother,  would  thai  you  were  living  still ! 

Some  icy  hand  grasps  my  warm  heart  and  wrings, 

And  untold  agony  is  dripping  down, 
And  tortures  all  unseen  pierce  me  with  stings, 

And  probe  anew  to  deeper  depths  that  wound 
Received  when  sister  flung  herself  away, 

(Against  our  will)  upon  that  worthless  man, 
We  writh'd  in  anguish  then  —  woe  to  that  day  ! 

What  awful  ruins  those  false  pledges  span  ' 

Ye  soul-consuming  torments,  O  withhold  ! 

Are  these  the  pleasures  bought  with  paltry  gold  ? 
Oh  !  dear  the  purchase  —  bitter  is  the  drug  ! 

Would  I  were  dead,  and  that  my  grave  was  dug 


THE    FORGED    WILL.  41 

But  see  !  that  ghostly  vision  haunts  me  still  — 

Nears  me  —  gliding  to  and  fro,  as  if  to  fill 

My  soul  with  creeping  terrors,  from  her  eyes, 

That  breathe  on  me  reproach  and  wild  surprise. 

O  what  departed  spirit  canst  thou  be  ? 

My  mother  ?  Oh  my  mother  !     It  is  she  ! 

'Tis  she  who  taught  my  youthful  tongue  to  speak, 

And  wateh'd  my  strengthening  steps,  week  after  week, 

When  this  dead  brother  and  myself  were  young, 

And  told  our  guileless  tales  with  artless  tongues. 

Now  mem'ry  like  an  ocean  o'er  my  mind, 

Comes  surging  on,  bearing  from  far  behind, 

The  scenes  of  other  days,  when  often  he 

Strok'd  these,  then  boyish  cheeks,  and  smiled  to  see 

Me  smile.     Our  mother  smiled  a  mother's  love, 

Raised  her  sainted  eyes,  and  from  above 

Invoked  a  blessing  on  her  prattling  boys  ; 

Then  turn'd,  call'd  us  her  pride,  her  hopes,  her  joys, 

Bent  on  Sayte  the  fullness  of  a  mother's  eye, 

While  her  pure  breast  was  hoven  by  a  sigh, 

Warmly  embraced  us,  kissed  us  o'er  and  o'er, 

And  bade  us  love  each  other  more  and  more. 

That  very  thought  now  steeps  my  soul  in  grief ; 

Oh  earth  !   O  heaven  !     Is  there  no  relief  ? 

P?ar  mother,  we  have  broke  thy  tender  will  ; 
Was  mine  the  fault  ?     Say,  how  could  I  fulfill 
Where  such  ingratitude  to  me  was  shown  ? 
By  sister,  sham'd,  by  brother,  stripp'd  of  home  ! 
Alas  'tis  done  !     My  wrath  the  fault  doth  own, 
2* 


42  FIFTY   YEARS   OLD. 

For  which  his  spirit  hath  forever  flown  — 
Sent  by  these  hands  with  icy  death  to  grasp, 
Those  hands,  that  mine  so  oft  have  fondly  clasp'd, 
Those  lips  in  everlasting  slumber  seal'd, 
That  have  to  me  so  oft  his  will  reveal'd. 

What  have  I  done  ?    O  what  an  awful  deed  ! 

Here  —  tear  my  heart's  strings  loose  and  let  them  bleed, 

And  while  they  pour  this  vital  life  away, 

Let  me  hear  you,  mother,  whisp'ring  say, 

"  I  do  forgive,"  and  it  is  all  I  crave — 

How  long  to  woe  shall  I  remain  a  slave  ? 

What !  fled  !     No  word  of  comfort  did  she  give  ! 
I  cannot  die,  and  yet  I  cannot  live  ; 
The  earth  is  sick  of  me,  and  I  of  earth, 
Both  sorrowing  that  she  ever  gave  me  birth. 
I  cannot  bear  even  this  Lunar  light  — 

O 

O  Death  !  seal  up  my  eyes  in  endless  night. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OLD. 


Fnll  fifty  years  their  ample  course  have  run, 
Since  I  the  journey  of  this  life  begun  ; 
Amid  its  jostling  waves  by  winds  I've  whhTd 
And  mix'd  and  mingl'd  with  a  bustling  world  ; 
And  strange  and  curious  is  the  checker'd  scene 
That  now  comes  up  from  life's  departed  dream. 


FIFTY    YEARS   OLD.  43 

I  see  me  now  a  ooy,  on  that  far  shore 

Of  youthful  days,  that  can  be  mine  no  more  ; 

By  grand  and  rustic  scenes  his  mind  is  fir'd, 

And  his  whole  soul  seems  wrought  as  if  inspir'd; 

And  while  he  toils  from  early  dawn  till  night 

O  how  his  soul  doth  long  for  higher  light, 

And  thirsts  for  knowledge,  knowledge  which  he  thought 

Would  raise  him  to  the  higher  plane  he  sought ; 

But  when  that  long'd-for  knowledge  came, 

'Twas  but  to  prove  that  knowledge  weak  and  vain. 

For  what  is  human  learning,  art  or  skill, 

That  it  the  longing  of  the  soul  should  fill. 

This  deathless  soul,  by  the  Eternal  given, 

With  hungrying  for  the  immortal  bread  of  heaven  ? 

So  oft  this  youth,  while  drinking  at  the  well 

Of  human  lore,  —  each  draught  seemed  but  to  swell 

The  cravings  of  his  breast,  with  yearnings  new, 

For  the  sublime,  the  beautiful  and  true  ; 

Then  he  beheld  'twas  but  from  the  Most  High 

He  could  be  fed,  or  draw  the  wish'd  supply, 

To  drink  the  waters  of  eternal  truth,  and  know 

That  for  himself  they  doth  forever  flow, 

While  in  communion  with  that  God  unseen 

Who  stills  the  seas  and  carpets  earth  in  green. 

All  human  pomp  and  show  he  hated  then, 
And  lov'd  seclusion  from  the  walks  of  men, 
That  he  might  feel  within  the  great  God  Power, 
And  be  refresh'd  by  grace  in  holy  hour. 
As  latent  dews  the  drooping  plants  revive, 
So  grace  the  human  soul  doth  keep  alive. 


44  FIFTY   YEARS   OLD. 

His  earthly  hopes  once  holy,  pure  and  high, 

Now  settled  down  and  darkness  veil'd  his  sky, 

That  living  form  he  over  all  held  dear, 

Then  faithless  prov'd  and  scourged  him  with  despair, 

And  when  should  brightest  shine  his  life-fed  light, 

Foreboding  glooms  arose,  and  starless  night, 

Moaning  Avith  dreary  winds.     What  could  he  then 

But  close  his  eyes  to  life  and  look  beyond  ? 

Thus  out  of  sympathy  with  every  other  youth, 

No  light  was  his  except  the  light  of  truth  ; 

And  this  he  courted,  come  from  where  it  might, 

And  of  all  youthful  pleasures  lost  the  sight  ; 

Yet  in  this  light  he  cherished  hopes  to  find 

A  faithful  being  of  a  virtuous  mind, 

Whose  worth  should  heal  the  wound  his  bosom  bore, 

And  bless  his  future  days  forevermore. 

And  this  he  did ;  for  now  while  life  doth  flow, 

A  heart  beats  sympathy  with  his,  to  know 

The  measure  of  his  worldly  joy  and  woe. 

How  many  disappointments  cross  the  way, 

And  hopes  once  bright  seem  perish'd  now  for  aye, 

And  care  on  care  rear  up  their  summits  high, 

Like  thunder  clouds  press'd  up  against  the  sky  ; 

Yet  all  along  the  way  I  pond'ring  find 

A  work  mysterious  by  a  hand  divine  ; 

And  far  beyond  the  storm-built  cloud  and  spray 

There  seems  to  break  the  light  of  cloudless  day. 

O  for  a  light  to  shine  into  the  soul 

From  the  Eternal's  throne,  to  there  behold 


FIFTY   YEARS   OLD.  45 

The  fullness  of  that  store  that  saints  decry, 
Beheld  by  Faith's  and  Inspiration's  eye. 

That  picture  thrown  on  canvas  deep  within, 
Doth  seem  to  me  would  drive  away  all  sin  — 
Would  light  devotion  with  her  holiest  glow, 
And  be  an  emblem  true  of  heaven  below. 
Yet  this,  so  much  desired  to  be  possess'd, 
May  be  a  real  thing  in  every  breast ; 
And  each  may  be  directed  in  the  way  — 
Instructed,  fed  and  strengthen'd  day  by  day, 
May  feel  within  promptings  of  will  divine  — 
That  image,   there,  on  hidden  pages  shine, 
Those  soul-bound  pages,  whose  true  worth  outweigh 
All  transitory  things  of  vain  display. 

O  God,  instruct  me,  on  these  pages  write 
Thy  will  immutable,  in  lines  of  light ; 
By  their  instructions  may  my  heart  improve 
And  breathing  in  the  atmosphere  of  love, 
Born  all  anew,  becoming  more  like  thee, 
Savior  Divine,  thou  son  of  Deity, 
Till  mortal-like  I  pass  from  earth  away, 
To  bask  within  the  light  of  endless  day. 

There,  feeding  on  the  food  of  the  Sublime, 
And  water'd  by  the  dews  of  the  Divine, 
May  this  soul-bud  (now  body-couch'd)  arise 
To  bloom  in  fullest  beauty  in  the  skies  ; 
And  by  its  heaven-born  petals,  there  drink  in 
Thy  boundless  blessings,  unalloyed  with  sin. 


46  HOW   WEAK   AND  FRAIL   IS   MAN. 

Thus  fed  antf  strengthened  by  thy  perfect  law, 
May  I  still  nearer  to  perfection  draw, 
And  branching  out  with  never-failing  power, 
And  of  eternal  youth,  bearing  the  flower, 
Taste  of  those  heavenly  pleasures  yet  to  be 
And  grow,  yet  miniatured   into  Eternity. 


HOW   WEAK  AND  FRAIL  IS   MAN- 


See,  you,  yon  ocean  on  its  rock-built  shore, 
How  wave  on  wave  impels  the  wave  before, 
And,  far  away,  e'en  to  the  cloud-capp'd  skies, 
Bursting  to  view,  new  surges  sink  and  rise, 
Come  rolling  on  till  with  a  splash  and  groan 
They  beat  the  shore  and  disappear  in  foam  ? 
Such  has  Creation  been  from  Time's  first  dawn, 
Deep,  grand,  and  boundless,  ever  rolling  on. 

Go  to  Niagara's  verge,  and  there  explore 
Its  mist-veiled  front,  and  listen  to  its  roar  ! 
View  here  a  power,  mysterious  and  sublime, 
That  has  endured  and  will  endure  with  time; 
Its  awful  voice  and  rainbow-wreathen  brow, 
Then  spoke  of  lofty  Nature's  God,  as  now  ; 
Then  from  this  height  step  to  the  evening  sky, 
See  silent  beauties  with  the  loud-voiced  vie, 
Here  worlds  unnumbered  in  their  orbits  roll, 
Guided  by  him  who  reigns  without  control ; 


HOW   WEAK   AND   FRAIL   IS   MAN.  47 

Systems  to  systems  joined  with  suns  and  spheres, 

Here  shine  and  move,  and  shall  for  countless  years, 

In  harmony  sublime,  eternal,  vast, 

And  with  eternity  itself  shall  last. 

O  works  mysterious,  stretched  through  space  abroad, 

Ho\v  do  you  tell  the  glory  of  your  God  ! 

Turn  thou,  O  man,  who  deems  himself  quite  great, 

To  think,  devise,  invent  and  regulate, 

And  execute  the  laws  that  govern  state, 

And  in  your  boasting  think  you  govern  fate, 

View  the  eternal  laws  of  the  Supreme, 

Which  move  mysterious  Nature's  vast  machine, 

And  all  thy  power  seen  in  this  higher  light, 

Now  sink  to  nothingness  within  thy  sight. 

O  what  is  Art,  with  all  its  boasted  show, 

When  thus  compared  with  Nature's  work  below, 

And  when  to  higher,  loftier  scenes  we  rise, 

And  touch  the  star-decked  keys  that  tune  the  skies, 

There  bursts  a  strain  so  deep,  sublimely  grand, 

Earth  shrinks  from  sight,  and  what  becomes  of  man  ? 

Wrapp'd  up  in  insignificance  from  view, 

As  in  the  ocean  sinks  a  drop  of  dew. 

The  splendid  palace  and  the  lofty  dome 

Shall  crumble  into  dust.     Great  Thebes  and  Rome, 

And  mighty  Carthage,  once  the  boast  of  men, 

Lie  heaped  in  ruins  !  —  they  have  found  their  end, 

And  Desolation  hovers  o'er  the  plaii 

Where  once  they  held  an  undisputed  reign. 

And  where  is  Troy,  once  mighty  and  renown'd, 


48  HOW   WEAK   AND    FRAIL   IS   MAN. 

By  walls  surrounded  and  with  temples  crown'd  ; 

From  whose  proud  gates  those  mighty  warriors  came 

To  whom  great  Homer  sang  undying  fame, 

As  having  god-like  strength  to  lightly  bear 

Such  ponderous  arms  as  Hercules  might  wear, 

And  on  those  fields  of  strife  such  honor  won, 

As  might  have  fitted  JPriam's  god  like  son  ? 

In  proud  magnificence  she  stood  with  sway, 

The  world  then  owned  and  hastened  to  obey  ; 

But  now  her  ashes  sleep  amid  decay, 

Unknown  the  place  she  stood,  unmarked  the  spot. 

Her  very  situation  is  forgot. 

Thus  towering  cities  crumble  into  dust, 

And  men,  their  builders,  mid  these  ashes  rust, 

Without  the  smallest  thing  or  voice  to  say, 

"  Here  sleep  in  death  the  mighty  of  their  day  ;  " 

Both  they  and  all  their  works  have  found  a  close — 

All  living  soon  must  sleep  in  death's  repose. 

O  then  boast  not,  vain  mortals,  of  your  power ; 
God's  works  are  endless,  yours,  of  but  an  hour  ; 
His  is  ubiquitory  and  supreme, 
Yours,  O  how  small !  and  fleeting  as  a  dream. 
Talk  not  of  boasted  will  and  strength  of  mind, 
You  are  but  weakness,  frailty,  blundering,  blind; 
O,  then,  consider  well,  and  ever  be 
Just  what  you  are  —  a  bubble  on  the  sea. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  LADY.         49 


LINES  WKITTEN  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG 
LADY, 

WHO    VERY    SUDDENLY    DIED    AT   THE     SEMINARY    WHICH 
THE    AUTHOR   WAS   AT   THAT   TIME    ATTENDING. 

Hark  !  borne  upon  the  passing  breeze,  I  hear 
The  moan  of  parents,  and  of  friends  most  dear, 
For  one  whom  sudden  death  has  snatched  away, 
And  mixed  vitality  with  crumbling  clay. 
Alarming  sound  !     That  fatal  voice  of  woe 
Whispers  in  accents  dread  and  fearful  low, 
"  Life  is  uncertain  even  when  most  sure  ; 
In  neither  youth  nor  age  you  rest  secure. 
Though  highest  hopes  to-day  your  bosom  warm, 
And  Health  and  Beauty,  these,  your  brows  adorn, 
Death's  cold,  untimely  frost  may  blight  their  bloom, 
The  morrow,  find  you  mould'ring  in  the  tomb." 

Not  unaspiring  were  the  hopes  of  her 
AVhom  Death  has  lately  bid  our  hands  inter  ; 
She  was  a  father's  pride,  a  mother's  care  — 
For  her  most  earnest  friends  made  earnest  prayer  ; 
Her's  was  a  sister's  love,  endeared  and  kind  ; 
That  sister  sought  with  her  to  culture  mind, 
And  side  by  side  they  climb'd  the  rugged  steep, 
Where  learned  science  sits  profound  and  deep. 
Upon  her  cheek  sat  beauty's  glowing  smile, 
And  sound  intelligence  as  bright  meanwhile 
D          3 


50        ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  LADY. 

Was  marked  in  every  feature  of  her  face, 
And  in  each  movement,  modesty  and  grace, 
And  all  that  promised  fair  for  future  fame 
Was  in  her  soul,  and  stamped  upon  her  name. 

Her  friends  were  many,  her  approvers,  more; 
Where  e'er  she  walked,  a  garb  of  honor  wore  ; 
No  slanderer's  hand  had  dared  that  garb  to  soil, 
Or,  with  a  bolder  grasp,  to  rend  and  spoil  ; 
In  every  rank  alike  her  virtue  shone, 
And  Charity  and  Wisdom  were  her  own. 

In  early  youth  she  sought  the  Savior's  cause, 
And  walked  within  its  light  and  by  its  laws, 
Seeking,  and  drinking  in  the  glory  of  her  God, 
To  scatter  love,  and  peace,  and  truth  abroad, 
Till  Death  was  sent,  a  message  from  above, 
To  bid  her  rise  and  share  a  heaven  of  love. 


THE    WORKS   OF   NATURE.  5] 


HOW    SUBLIME    TO    CONTEMPLATE    THE 
WORKS  OF  NATURE. 


O  how  sublime  on  mental  wings  to  rise, 

And  view  the  grandeur  of  the  azure  skies  ; 

Where  countless  worlds  in  seas  of  glory  roll, 

On  which  to  feed  the  ever  pond'ring  soul, 

Whose  thought-pi  um'd  wings  fan  the  ethereal  sky, 

While  angels  feeling  sympathy  reply, 

And  soaring  upward,  onward,  onward  still, 

Fancy  makes  swift,  assisted  by  the  will. 

Thus  plumed  in  majesty  of  sober  thought, 

A  precious  boon  unsold,  sAike  unbought, 

Dives  deeper  into  mysteries  of  our  God, 

Grasps  at  creation  amply  spread  abroad, 

Beholds  unnumbered  suns  in  dazzling  brightness  shine, 

Forever  wondrous,  and  undimmed  by  time  ; 

While  round  the  sources  of  eternal  day, 

Worlds  without  end  hold  their  resistless  way, 

Rolling  in  yon  ethereal  space  above, 

Their  ponderous  orbs,  in  unison  and  love, 

And  'round  these  worlds  that  circumvolve  their  suns, 

As  many  satellites  unceasing  run  ; 

Still  traversing  the  star-bespangled  blue, 

Searches  Creation  far  beyond  the  view. 

From  world  to  world  and  sun  to  sun  it  flies, 

Nor  stoops  it  flight,  but  higher  still  to  rise, 


52  THE   WORKS   OF   NATURE. 

The  farther  off,  the  nobler  scenes  behold, 

And  soaring  on,  new  mysteries  unfold, 

Sees  lovelier  worlds,  and  still  more  dazzling  suns, 

Where  Death  treads  not  and  sin  hath,  never  come, 

And  heavenly  beings  here  hath  ever  trod 

In  holy  union  with  the  laws  of  God  ; 

Still  pushing  on,  the  mighty  sphere  ascends, 

Where  sits  the  Father,  —  all  his  works  attend, 

And  round  this  seat  of  his  eternal  throne, 

(Mightier  far  within  itself  alone 

Than  all  the  rest  of  Nature's  works  as  one, 

Worlds,  satellites,  and  huge  revolving  suns,) 

These  complicated  systems  hold  their  course, 

And  this,  their  center,  and  eternal  source, 

To  which  all  nature,  through  her  various  laws, 

Hold  all  these  works  in  one  stupendous  cause. 

Incomprehensible  !     Boundless  !     And  Supreme  ! 
How  vain  we  strive  to  comprehend  the  scene  ! 
And  each  attempt  of  mind,  such  to  descry, 
Can  no  more  reach  its  glories  seated  high, 
Than  the  pale  lamp,  that  flits  and  dies  away, 
Can  vie  with  the  eternal  source  of  day  ; 
Overwhelmed  it  falls,  confounded  from  the  skies, 
It  falls,  but  with  redoubled  strength  to  rise. 


SCENES   OF   DESPAIR.  53 


SCENES  OF   DESPAIE. 


O  how  horrible  and  dark  is  deep  Despair  ! 
How  it  doth  gloom  the  heart,  the  vitals  tear ; 
How  painful  to  behold  that  awful  frown 
That  casts  dejection,  gloom  and  terror  'round, 
That  hides  from  view  the  sparks  of  hope  divine, 
Leaves  darkness  boundless  as  the  sea  of  time  ; 
Yes,  sad  and  dismal  is  that  scene  where  years 
Bring  naught  but  melancholy  sighs  and  tears  ; 
Where  victims,  robbed  of  joy,  shattered  and  shorn, 
Are  left  alone,  cast  down,  to  weep  and  mourn  ; 
How  dark  the  scene  where  every  smile  of  mirth 
Have  fled  a  living  soul  that  dwells  on  earth  ! 

Wretched  his  lot,  who  in  his  youthful  days, 
Saw  hope's  effulgent  flame  before  him  blaze, 
That  promised  joy  to  come  in  future  years, 
When,  lo  !  he  grasped  with  neither  doubts  or  fears. 
And  thoughtless  gave  his  passion  for  relief, 
Till  disappointment  sealed  his  fate  in  grief, 
And  sorrow  heaped  on  him  a  load  of  care, 
And  bowed  his  youthful  head  to  sad  despair, 
Quenched  all  his  flames  of  hope  in  thickest  gloom, 
And  sank  his  looked-for  joys  within  the  tomb, 
And  all  that  faith  and  hope  to  him  e'er  gave, 
Submerged  beneath  affliction's  angry  wave. 


54r  SCENES  OF   DESPAIR. 

Hs  seeks  for  comfort  now,  but  finds  it  not. 

His  wounds  are  all  unhealed  ami  unforgot ; 

He  sees  his  days  to  come  are  dark  and  wild, 

Where  peace  and  pleasure  are  to  never  smile, 

Where  jostling  cares  in  wildest  fury  rave, 

And  all  is  tumult,  even  to  the  grave. 

They  rend,  they  dash,  they  break  upon  the  heart, 

As  storm-rent  oceans  on  the  works  of  art,  . 

And  weal  and  life  itself  seems  to  depart ; 

The  warm  affections  of  the  breast  are  chill'd, 

With  anguish'd  grief  the  burdened  soul  is  fill'd  ; 

Some  solitude  he  seeks  where  mercies  flow, 

And  calls  on  God  to  stem  the  tide  of  woe. 

And  though  earth's  joys  with  him  for  aye  are  fled, 

He  in  the  grave  may  find  a  peaceful  bed  ; 

And  though  each  hope  of  these  be  from  him  driven, 

He  still  may  find  eternal  joys  in  heaven. 

Though  of  the  hopes  of  earth  he  may  be  void, 

Yet  hopes  of  heaven  can  not  be  destroyed. 


SCENES  OF  JOY   AND   HOPE.  55 

I 


SCENES  OF  JOY  AND  HOPE. 


What  pleasing  scenes  present  themselves  to  view, 

And  robe  afflictions  in  a  pleasant  hue, 

That  light  the  path  of  life  with  brilliant  rays, 

Give  scope  to  happiness  in  all  its  ways. 

These  are  the  scenes  of  joy  and  hope  serene, 

That  on  life's  stage  with  pleasing  rays  are  seen, 

And  bid  our  longing  spirits  sweetly  rest, 

And  breathe  a  balm  of  peace  in  every  breast, 

Shut  to  the  iron  gates  of  weary  care, 

And  veil  the  blackest  forms  of  dark  despair, 

Extend  their  influence  mild  to  all  below, 

And  dry  the  gushing  tears  of  grief  and  woe, 

Bid  the  rough  waves  of  sorrow  to  depart, 

And  bind  up  the  afflicted,  broken  heart ; 

To  tumults  of  the  mind  they  whisper,  "Cease  !  " 

And  calm   the  waves  of  trouble  into  peace, 

Drive  the  tempestuous  winds  of  life  away, 

And  make    our  days  like  those  of  gentle  May, 

Give  comfort  to  the  souls  that  grieve  and  mourn, 

And  cheer  the  most  dejected  and  forlorn, 

Hide  the  dread  edge    of  death  so  piercing  keen, 

And  point  out  many  years  to  roll  between, 

Enrobe  the  soul  within  a  srlorious  cloud, 

O 

And  paint  it  with  all  searching  mind  endowYl. 


56  SCENES   OF   JOY    AND   HOPE. 

How  many  youths  with  eyes  sparkling  and  bright, 

Have  felt  their  touch,  and  leap'd  with  pure  delight, 

And  bounding  with  their  transport,  fled  away, 

Found  new  enjoyment  every  opening  day, 

And  with  delighted  eyes  gazed  on  nature's  scene, 

Found  all  was  order,  harmony,  serene, 

The  herbs,  the  flowers,  the  trees  and  every  spray, 

Looked  lovely,  cheerful,  blooming,  pleasing,  gay; 

All  bore  the  mark  of  beauty,  and  the  claim 

That  by  the  hand  of  nature  had  been  framed  ; 

They  look  about,  see  all  in  peace  profound, 

Then  run,  and  leap,  and  shout  at  every  bound, 

Still  their  full  souls  unable  to  contain, 

They  twist  in  every  form  like  one  insane  ; 

Then  break  away,  each  to  a  hillock  green, 

And  seats  himself  to  view  the  lovely  scene. 

But  scarcely  seated  here  this  is  forgot, 

Each  bounds  away  to  find  some  other  spot, 

Then  all,  in  shouts  aloud,  their  souls  overflow, 

And  how  to  govern  self  they  do  not  know, 

And  at  each  outgush  rue,  or  seem  to  rue, 

That  they  can  not  spread  out  o'er  all  they  view. 

Their  eyes  are  every  where  —  on  those,  on  these, 
First  on  their  feet,  and  then  upon  their  knees, 
They  skip  along  and  turn  in  various  ways, 
And  know  not  where  in  full  content  to  gaze, 
And  while  sweet  joy  adorns  their  pathway  bright, 
Hope  paints  the  future  in  more  glorious  light. 
And  as  they  reach  these  full-of-promise  years, 
Each  leaning  on  his  manhood,  now  appears, 


SCENES   OF   JOY   AND   HOPE.  57 

And  seek  for  riches,  fortune  and  for  fame. 

Nor  are  their  manly  efforts  all  in  vain, 

But  at  each  step  both  wealth  and  honor  rise, 

And  magnify  themselves  within  their  eyes  ; 

Fame  from  her  tow'ring  mount  is  seen  afar, 

Waving  on  high  her  ever-shining  star, 

And  whispers  (through  its  soft  and  misty  light), 

"  I  will  be  yours  if  you  aspire  aright, 

And  watch  my  star  through  intervening  night." 

Through  world-bewilderments  it  leads  them  on, 

That  on  that  World  their  glories  bright  might  dawn  ; 

O'er  rock,  o'er  crags,  a  toiling  steep  they  find, 

Yet,  cheered  by  Hope,  their  way  they  slowly  wind, 

Till  the  first  murmur  of  applause  they  hear, 

Then  smile  for  joy  to  think  themselves  so  near  ; 

Thus  Hope  gives  us  our  strength  to  perse vere, 

And  in  that  present  Hope  is  joy  sincere, 


58  LINES  WRITTEN   AT   THE   CLOSE   OF   SCHOOL. 


LINES  WRITTEN  AT  THE  CLOSE  OF  SCHOOL 


This  must  close  our  happy  meeting  ; 

How  it  wounds  the  throbbing  heart ! 
The  time  is  fled,  and  oh  how  fleeting  ! 

Sterner  duties  bid  us  part ; 
Must  we  change  fond  friendship's  token  ? 

Take  perhaps  the  last  farewell  ? 
Must  our  union  be  thus  broken  ? 

And  you  go  elsewhere  to  dwell  ? 

Yes,  we  feel  that  time  is  stealing, 

Ever  faithful  to  its  trust, 
And  the  voice  of  reason  pealing, 

Louder  still  exclaims,   "  We  must ! " 
What !  to  part,  and  part  forever  ? 

Ne'er  to  meet  in  union  more  ? 
How  regretting  thus  to  sever  ! 

Say  our  meetings  all  are  o'er. 

O  how  soon  the  time  has  vanish'd 

Since  we  here  first  met  with  you  ; 
Think  —  one  term  has  since  been  banish'd. 

And  we  now  must  bid  adieu  ; 
Go,  then,  joy  and  bliss  attend  you 

Wheresoever  you  may  roam  ; 
And  the  smiles  of  peace  befriend  you, 

When  with  strangers  and  at  home. 


LINES   WRITTEN   AT  THE   CLOSE   OF   SCHOOL.  59 

But  when  gone,  and  time  is  flying, 

Give  for  us  one  ling'ring  thought, 
When  we  all  were  nobly  trying 

To  improve  by  what  you  taught ; 
May  it  ever  be  our  object 

To  improve  the  heart  and  mind, 
And  may  it  be  our  one  great  project 

To  be  ever  just  and  kind. 

Often  times  our  thoughts  will  wander, 

When  long  years  have  rolled  away, 
Back  upon  the  scenes  to  ponder, 

Blessings  of  a  happier  day  ; 
May  it  be  our  farewell  token, 

Wishing  joy  and  peace  with  you, 
And  that  our  friendship  be  unbroken  — 

Then,  Adieu  !    Adieu  !    Adieu  ! 


60        ADIEU  TO  THE  DAYS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 


ADIEU  TO  THE  DAYS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 


And  are  ye  gone,  O  days  of  bliss  refined  ! 

Spent  in  the  culture  of  the  youthful  mind  ? 

And  are  you  fled  and  never  to  return  ? 

And  does  the  parting  year  your  flight  confirm  ? 

Yes,  on  retiring  wings  forever  flown, 

To  where  oblivion  hides  the  dread  unknown. 

Oh  blissful  hours,  whose  moments  as  they  flew, 
Brought  happiness  and  peace,  adieu  !  adieu ! 
Those  precious  pleasures  I'll  no  more  enjoy, 
And  holy  moments  spent  in  sweet  employ, 
To  mold  and  swell  the  youthful  budding  hea.rfc, 
Whose  opening  petals  just  began  to  part. 

And  tho'  you're  gone,  sped  on  by  time's  career, 
Yet  your  sweet  savor  seems  to  linger  near, 
And  bless  and  hallow  life's  most  turbid  sea 
With  the  perfumes  of  fondest  memory, 
That  gives  us  grace  the  conflict  to  renew, 
Till  youth  eternal  heaves  its  shores  in  view. 

O  talk  to  me  of  virtue  then  —  and  sin 

May  not  forbid  that  I  should  enter  in  ; 

But  though  the  storms  may  rage,  and  high  waves  swell, 

The  lighthouse  is  beyond,  and  all  is  well ; 

And  I  may  enter  port,  though  dark  the  night, 

And  taste  of  endless  life,  and  see  its  light. 


PARTING  AT   SCHOOL.  61 


PARTING  AT  SCHOOL. 


Oh,  how  fleet  is  time's  career  ! 
As  revolves  the  rolling  year, 
How  the  moments  disappear, 

And  flee  eternally  ; 
Never  ceasingly  they  fly, 
Roll  their  countless  numbers  by  ; 
No  human  power  of  mind  or  eye 

Can  scan  futurity. 

Mark  the  months  and  seasons  glide  ! 
Changes,  wrought  on  every  side, 
Wafted  onward  by  that  tide, 

Which  bears  eternity  ; 
Floating  on  its  boundless  wave, 
The  proud,  the  great,  the  weak,  the  brave, 
All  toward  one  common  grave, 

The  grave,  their  destiny. 

Thus  we  too  are  borne  along, 
By  that  current  rolling  on, 
Ever  constant,  ever  strong 

Through  all  immensity  ; 
Soon  we  leap  the  verge  of  life  — 
Death  shall  end  each  mortal  strife, 
Both  with  sin  and  sorrow  rife. 

And  hush  them  silently. 


(}2  PARTING   AT-  SCHOOL. 

How  unceasing  is  the  flow 
Of  time's  current  here  below  ! 
But  a  few  short  weeks  ago 

We  met  in  unity  ; 
And  at  first  we  view'd  our  stay, 
Here  our  meetings,  day  by  day, 
As  if  ne'er  to  pass  away  — 

Time  fled  so  quietly. 

But  those  meetings  now  are  done, 
Finished  ere  they  scarce  begun, 
Summer  too  its  course  has  run, 

And  fleeting  was  its  train  ; 
Soon  dissolves  tlfis  youthful  band, 
For  life's  duties  stern  command, 
Bids  us  take  the  parting  hand, 

Never  to  meet  again. 

For  when  severed  and  away, 
Ne'er  again  returns  the  day 
When  we  all  shall  pass  this  way, 

And  meet  as  we  have  done  ; 
But  as  broken  clouds  of  rain 
Never  know  that  place  again, 
So  when  once  upon  the  main, 

We  meet  no  more  as  one. 

But  when  time  a  change  has  wrought, 
There  '11  come  to  mind  what  here  was  taught, 
The  prize  for  which  we  nobly  sought 
And  toiled  most  patiently  ; 


PARTING   AT   SCHOOL.  63 

Those  instructions  of  the  heart, 
Which  enrich  the  deathless  part, 
Gained  by  mental  toil  and  art, 
And  assiduity. 

What  these  parting  scenes  excel ! 
Feelings  deep  my  bosom  swell ! 
Classmates,  can  we  say  farewell  1 

And  that  eternally  ? 
Yes,  we  must  —  bid  all  adieu  ! 
And  parting  be  as  brothers  true, 
When  truth  and  love  each  mind  imbue 

With  pure  fidelity. 


54  FRIENDSHIP. 


FRIENDSHIP.    , 


How  sweet  is  friendship's  sacred  lot, 
Where  sordid  feelings  harbor  not  — 
To  feel  that  we  are  un forgot 

By  those  we  dearly  love. 
And  though  unheeding  oceans  roar, 
'Twixt  us  and  those  whom  we  adore, 
To  hope  when  life's  short  journey's  o'er, 

That  we  shall  meet  above. 

And  though  the  world  pays  us  no  heed, 

To  joys,  or  woes,  or  worthy  deed, 

To  know  we've  friends  whose  hearts  would  bleed 

For  every  wrong  we  feel  ; 
And  who  would  dare,  to  old  or  young, 
Reprove  a  lie  from  Envy's  tongue, 
That  might  about  our  names  be  flung, 

And  strive  these  wounds  to  heal. 


To  think,  when  Fortune  proves  unkind, 
Destroys  our  comfort,  peace  of  mind, 
That  soothers  of  our  cares  we'll  find 

In  those  whom  we  admire  ; 
To  feel,  when  sunk  in  illness  deep, 
Or  wrapped  in  Death's  eternal  sleep, 


FRIENDSHIP.  65 

That  there  are  those  who  then  would  weep 
For  Friendship's  sacred  fire. 

And  while  we've  earthly  friends  most  dear, 
'Who  Avith  us  smile,  or  shed  the  tear, 
There  is  a  Friend  we  most  revere, 

Whom  over  all  we  laud, 
Who  knows  our  every  joy  and  woe, 
To  whom  we  can  in  secret  go, 
And  who  to  hear  us  is  not  slow  — 

That  precious  friend  is  God. 

E         3* 


60      KNOWLEDGE   AND   VIRTUE,  WISDOM    AND   TRUTH. 


KNOWLEDGE    AND    VIRTUE,    WISDOM     AM) 
TRUTH. 


Knowledge  and  Virtue,  Wisdom,  Truth, 
Will  bloom  beyond  the  smiles  of  youth, 
Shall  last  when  time  has  flown  away, 
And  left  us  locks  scattered  and  gray  ; 
When  age  its  furrows  shall  have  worn, 
Yet  still  they  will  our  minds  adorn  ; 
Give  every  doubtful  pathway  light, 
And  guide  our  wand'ring  steps  aright. 
And  shining  out  from  deep  within, 
Seek  their  counterpart  in  Him 
Who  gave  them  being,  and  doth  send 
All  blessings  on  the  sons  of  men  ; 
And  gives  us  privilege  to  be 
Immortal  sons  of  Deity  ; 
From  out  whose  wealth  forever  shine . 
Eternal  joy  and  love  divine  ; 
Show  us  that  endless  harmony 
Running  through  every  thing  we  see, 
Like  an  eternal  chain  to  bind 
Creator  and  created  kind  ; 
Teach  us  to  live  that  every,  day 
Will  bring  its  leaf  or  flower-bud  gay, 
To  add  unto  the  wreath  that  now 
They  long  since  hung  about  our  brow  ; 


KNOWLEDGE    AND   VIRTUE,  WISDOM   AND   TRUTH.       67 

Teach  us  to  see  some,  jewel  true 

In  every  rain  drop  or  of  dew, 

The  germ  from  which  the  rainbow's  form 

Is  arch'd  across  the  rising  storm  ; 

Teach  us  each  moment  to  improve 

And  drink  the  joys  of  Nature's  love. 

As  day  by  day  we  move  along, 
O  may  we  listen  to  the  song 
They  sing  of  harmony  divine 
Through  all  her  strings  in  every  time, 
And  wending  down  life's  rapid  stream, 
May  these  enlighten  every  dream, 
Till  earthly  pleasures  cease  to  bloom  — 
Then  light  our  pathway  to  the  tomb. 


68  OUR  MOTHER. 


OUE  MOTHER. 


O  mother  !  dear  mother  !  how  tender  that  name  ! 
And  the  love  that  you  bore  us,  how  sacred  the  flame. 

Their  memory  large  volumes  would  fill, 
Would  speak  of  those  times  when,  we  children  so  free, 
All  played  'round  about  you,  or  climb'd  at  your  knee, 

Each  anxious  to  do  your  good  will. 

How  persuasive  the  tones,  as  those  morals  you  taught, 
In  mildness  of  soul  and  the  clearness  of  thought, 

As  you  pointed  the  wrong  and  the  right; 
How  quick  we  resolved  your  biddings  to  do, 
And  to  your  instructions  we'd  ever  be  true, 

We'd  keep  every  precept  in  sight. 

Long  years  have  swept  by  in  their  hurried  array, 
And  changed  are  we  all  since  that  happy  day. 

But  the  faith,  the  good  faith,  we  have  kept, 
And  through  weal  and  through  woe,  though  darkness 

and  light, 
All  our  hearts  have  been  sealed  and  stamped,  "For  the 

right,1' 
The  type  of  which  stamp  you  had  set. 

How  well  I  remember  with  pleasure  and  pride, 
While  yet  a  mere  stripling,  I  walked  by  your  side, 


OUE   MOTHER.  69 

While  viewing  the  field  and  the  wood  ; 
You  showed  me  the  stream,  as  it  laughed  on  its  way, 
The  leaflet,  and  blossom,  and  flower-bud  gay, 

And  said  that  their  maker  was  good. 

How  in  wisdom  divine  he VI  made  you  and  1 
*With  souls  that  should  love  him,  and  never  to  die, 

As  long  as  that  love  should  endure  ; 
That  over  Death's  way,  on  a  far  brighter  shore, 
His  fullness  of  joy  would  be  ours  evermore, 

Where  all  would  be  stable  and  pure. 

Then  with  the  same  hand  you  me  tenderly  led, 

You  warmer  pressed  mine,  and  right  pleadingly,  said, 

"My  son,  will  you  meet  me  above  ? " 
That  same  hand  leads  me  still,  through  hopes  and  through 

fears, 
Though  you  have  passed  over  way  back  in  the  years, 

I  pray  I  may  meet  you  in  love. 


70  A   VISION   OF   THE   MIND. 


In  meditation  deep  I  pond'ring  stood, 
Far  from  the  eye  of  man  in  a  lone  wood, 
Where  all  was  silence  save  the  passing  breeze, 
That  stirred  eaeh  pendant  bow  with  graceful  ease. 

My  tranquil  mind,  now  wrapt  in  thought  profound, 

Surveys  the  harmony  of  nature  'round  ; 

Now  soars  aloft  up  to  the  azure  skies, 

Then  on  fleet  wings  to  heights  more  lofty  rise  — 

Searches  creation,  vast,  expansive,  broad, 

In  ample  scope  yon  boundless  arch  of  God    — 

Sees  countless  suns  in  endless  grandeur  shine, 

And  worlds  unnumbered  rolling  there  sublime, 

Which  with  deep  wonder  fill  the  pond'ring  soul, 

And  talk  of  Nature's  Builder  as  they  roll; 

Still  soaring  upward,  and  still  mounting  higher, 

Till  burns  my  breast  with  a  celestial  fire, 

And  longs  my  soul  (if  but  by  glim'ring  ray), 

To  see  one  feeble  measure  of  the  wa^ 

God  rules  the  watches  of  the  silent  hours, 

And  veils  his  face,  and  his  mysterious  powers; 

Surmounts  the  barriers  that  conceal  each  star, 

And  all  the  gates  of  mystery  unbar. 

It  reaches,  grasps,  reaches  and  grasps  again, 

And  finding  each  attempt  both  weak  and  vain, 


A   VISION   OF   THE   MIND.  71 

And  every  thing  too  vast  to  comprehend. 
It  checks  its  flight,  and  to  the  earth  descends  ; 
And  even  here,  in  every  plant  and  flower, 
Beholds  the  wonders  of  his  sovereign  power  ; 
Here  towers  the  oak,  and  there  the  lofty  pine, 
Here  grows  the  herb,  and  there  the  creeping  vine  ; 
Each  speaks  alike  God's  great  unequaled  skill,- 
And  with  wild  wonder  our  whole  being  fills. 
Why  grows  the  fern,  or  yonder  simple  weed  ? 
Why  springs  the  grass  to  decorate  the  meads  ? 
I  ask,  and  waiting  for  an  answer,  pause. 
Who  can  reply  or  Avho  show  forth  the  cause  ? 
None  can  reply,  nor  none  have  aid  to  lend, 
No  tongue  can  tell,  no  mind  can  comprehend  ; 
For  here  God's  mysteries  are  unreveaFd, 
As  in  the  widest  walks  of  Nature's  field. 
His  power  is  shown  in  things  of  simple  form, 
As  well  as  in  the  vengeance  of  the  storm  ; 
And  in  the  low  and  humble  creeping  vine 
Is  veiled  that  mystic  wisdom,  all  divine, 
That  heaves  the  ocean  in  its  angry  roar, 
While  all  secure  we  listen  on  the  shore. 

Pond'ring  awhile  a  change  of  theme  I  wrought ; 
O'er  varied  scenes  rolled  the  deep  tide  of  thought, 
And  visions  rich  were  pressed  upon  the  mind, 
In  moments  few,  which  hours  could  not  define, 
And  having  scan'd  the  works  of  nature  wide, 
In  countless  forms  outstretched  on  either  side, 
All  on  a  sudden  came  this  thought  to  mind  : 
"What  different  dispositions  have  mankind  ; 


72  A   VISION   OF   THE    MIND. 

"The  quick,  the  slow,  the  foolish  and  the  wise  "  — 
The  second  thought  awakened  my  surprise  ; 
A  hasty  sketch  of  this  bewildering  maze, 
And  I  was  lost  in  its  intricate  ways, 
And  thoughts  now  wandered  here  and  there, 
Darkened  with  doubt,  and  much  perplexed  with  care; 
When  all  at  once,  lo  !  to  my  great  surprise, 
A  crowded  vision  passed  before  my  eyes. 
Plain  and  distinct,  in  elegance  array'd  ; 
Upon  a  mountain's  side  it  seem  displayed, 
Where  a  vast  multitude  of  every  age, 
In  various  pursuits  seem'd  to  engage  ; 
Some  were  in  silks,  and  some  in  tatters  clad, 
Some  walk'd  rejoicing,  some  deject  and  sad  ; 
Some  pined  in  want,  and  some  in  mammon  roll'd, 
Some  gloried  in  their  wits,  but  more  in  gold  ; 
Some  tread  the  path  of  vice,  and  some  of  truth, 
Some  bow'd  in  age,  and  some  rejoiced  in  youth; 
And  some  were  boasting,  vain,  presumptuous,  proud, 
Others  were  meek,  with  loftier  minds  endowed  ; 
Yet  all  were  hurried  down  life's  crowded  way, 
And  death  seemed  ever  to  prolong  his  stay, 
And  while  his  victim  yet  was  unaware, 
He  quickly  seized  and  spread  the  fatal  snare, 
Then  o'er  their  eyes  drew  a  deep,  doleful  gloom, 
Quench'd  life's  bright  spark,  then  hurled  them  to  the 
tomb. 

These  lost  to  sight,  my  eyes  the  search  renew, 
Of  this  mix'd  maze  stretch'd  out  before  my  view, 
When,  all  at  once  arrested,  they  behold 


A   VISION   OP  THE   MIND. 

A  different  scene,  all  deck'd  with  pearl  and  gold  ; 

The  young,  the  beautiful,  the  gay,  the  fair, 

Dance  heedless  on  and  toss  their  curling  hair, 

Rev'ling  in  luxury,  and  glee,  and  mirth, 

And  all  the  fickle  vanities  of  earth  ; 

No  sober  thoughts  are  press'd  upon  the  mind, 

But  seem  to  reason  and  to  judgment  blind. 

On,  on  they  go,  led  by  blind  passion's  call, 

Into  the  vices  of  intemperance  fall. 

All  these  to  them  are  rapture,  joy  and  glee, 

No  folly,  snare  or  coming  sorrow  see. 

And  reaching  now  where  join  life's  single  strands, 

Two  by  two  march  forth  in  Hymen's  bands, 

Still  rev'ling  in  extravagance  and  pride, 

Each  truth,  each  virtue,  boldly  they  deride, 

And  nothing  but  those  baser  feelings  heed, 

Which  bring  but  transient  joy,'  and  then  succeed 

Their  offsprings,  wasting  tortures,  care  and  pain, 

Debasing  every  function,  soul  and  brain, 

Render  the  mind  and  morals  unrefined, 

And  ever  leave  a  conscious  sting  behind. 

But  mark,  far  winding  into  misty  gloom, 
The  scene  extends  e'en  to  the  very  tomb, 
And  at  each  step  enjoyments  now  decrease, 
Till  laughter,  joy  and  mirth,  and  pleasures  cease 
And  end  in  pestilence,  disease  and  pain, 
Where  sorrow  and  regret  triumphant  reign. 
There  walk  the  lame,  decrepid,  halt  and  blind, 
Who  are  diseased  in  members  and  in  mind  ; 
4 


74  A   VISION  OF  THE   MIND. 

On,  on  they  march,  attended  by  despair, 
And  death  in  wildest  triumph  revels  there. 

All,  all  beyond,  the  darkest  clouds  conceal 
Nothing  its  awful  secrets  dare  reveal. 
Dismal  and  dense  heaves  up  the  inky  mass, 
Eternal,  groaning,  dread,  expansive,  vast. 
Shock'd  at  the  scene,  in  haste  I  turn  away 
To  seek  some  spot  where  smiles  the  face  of  day. 

When,  lo  !  extended  on  the  other  side, 

A  brilliant  vision  wended  broad  and  wide 

Of  different  views,  unto  my  eyes  appears, 

Crowned  with  sweet  life  and  bright,  successive  ye  .is 

Here  crowds  of  beings  seem  to  move  along, 

Guided  by  virtue,  and  by  reason  strong. 

No  vain  indulgence,  feast  or  dance  is  seen, 

But  all  is  quietude  and  peace  serene. 

No  drunken  vanities  this  peace  destroy, 

But  Virtue's  smile  brings  there  unceasing  joy, 

And  with  a  steady  flame  lights  up  the  way, 

The  same  to-morrow  as  it  is  to-day. 

Mark!  winding  far,  the  varied  scenes  extend 
With  that  same  brightness  to  life's  journey's  end, 
And  the  approach  of  death  seems  but  to  cheer, 
A  change  of  earthly  things  for  things  more  dear  ; 
For,  far  beyond  the  confines  of  the  tomb, 
Instead  of  dismal  clouds  and  deep'ning  gloom, 
All  is  contentment,  happiness  and  love, 
Which  seem  to  blend  with  the  pure  realms  above. 


A   VISION   OF  THE   MIND.  75 

u 

Here  full  contentment,  smiles  and  gladness  reigns 
And  pure  enjoyment  spreads  its  wide  domain, 
And  heavenly  blessings  cluster  all  around, 
And  stings  of  vice  are  never  to  be  found. 
Here  walk  the  good,  the  temperate,  thought  I, 
And  their  rewards  end  not,  though  they  may  die. 

But,  -lo  !  another  scene  in  different  hues  appears, 
Adorn'd  with  youth,  all  mirthfulness  and  cheer ; 
The  young,  the  gay,  the  hopeful,  and  the  fail- 
Are  met,  and  pleasure,  mirth  and  joy  are  there. 
Upon  each  brow  the  smiles  of  transport  glow, 
And  pure  enjoyments  there  abundant  flow  ; 
From  eye  to  eye  looks  full  of  meaning  dart, 
Unveiling  the  emotions  of  the  heart. 
All  is  hilarity,  pleasing  and  gay, 
And  time,  unnoticed,  hasty  flees  away, 
And  Ease  and  Elegance  have  lent  their  share 
To  make  this  scene  a  scene  of  beauty  rare. 

But,  mark,  amid  the  joy-envelop'd  throng, 
A  form,  more  grave,  sedately  moves  along. 
At  his  approach  the  smiling  throng  gives  way, 
And  gazing  on,  a  cold  respect  they  pay. 
The  stranger  seats  himself  with  sober  mien, 
The  throng  removes  the  space  he  left  between, 
And  all  resumes  its  former  shape  again, 
And  gayety  takes  up  its  thoughtless  reign. 

Still  this  one  sits,  composed,  calm  and  serene, 
Nor  joins  the  sport,  the  gay  and  festive  scene, 


76  A  VISION   OF  THE   MIND. 

But  on  the  crowd  he  looks  with  steadfast  gaze, 
Sees  every  glance  and  marks  its  every  phase. 
Though  through  the  throng  disdainful  whispers  run, 
And  sneers  and  scofls  oft-times  at  him  are  flung. 
He  heeds  them  not,  but  with  a  ready  art, 
Reads  what  is  passing  now  in  every  heart ; 
Knows  what  each  bosom,  what  each  brain  conceals, 
What  passions  rjle,  and  what  each  person  feels. 

Not  here  he  came  to  join  the  sport  and  play 

As  did  the  rest,  to  hurry  time  away, 

But  his  prime  object  was,  and  sole  design, 

To  search  the  heart,  and  read  the  human  mind  ; 

And  with  a  piercing  eye,  on  either  side, 

He  saw  the  pomp  of  show,  the  swell  of  pride, 

And  learn'd  to  know  in  whom  such  passions  grew, 

To  mark  its  features  from  the  outward  view. 

Thus  he  his  secret  purposes  fulfills, 

From  outward  show  to  read  the  inward  will. 

Thus  unobserved,  unknown  and  unaware, 

The  pent-up  feelings  of  each  breast  laid  bare; 

And  here  he  saw  deceit  in  every  form, 

All  seeming  calm  without,  while  in  was  storm, 

And  while  without  were  sunshine,  smiles,  and  light, 

Within  were  gloom  and  darkness  black  as  night. 

But  farther  on  'way  to  the  distant  right, 

And  merging  into  mist,  another  sight 

Appears.     In  solitude  one  sets  retir'd 

With  upturn'd  eyes  and  heaven-like  thoughts  inspired. 

A  magic  lyre  within  one  hand  he  holds, 


A    VISION    OF   THE    MIND.  77 

And  with  the  other  Nature's  book  unfolds; 

And  as  he  turns  the  ample  leaves  of  time, 

He  reads  in  words  and  sentiments  sublime, 

Of  changes  wrought,  as  ages  rolled  between, 

Of  warring  elements,  and  prospects  more  serene. 

Now  some  grand  scenes  his  heaven-bent  mind  inspire 

With  earnest  hand  he  strikes  the  magic  lyre, 

And  every  land  beneath  the  sun  resound, 

And  raptur'd  nations  listen  to  the  sound  — 

From  age  to  age  repeat  the  heaven-born  strain, 

And  on  enduring  tablets  write  his  name 

In  burning  characters  of  living  fire, 

That  unborn  generations  might  admire. 

And  still  another  scene  breaks  to  the  view, 

In  living  form  and  pencil 'd  with  its  hue  ; 

For  there  behold,  far  up  the  mountain  side, 

In  moving  characters  stretch'd  far  and  wide, 

A  mass  of  people  seem  to  gather  'round, 

Some  favor'd  object,  fam'd  and  much  renown'd,  — 

I  see  their  banners  as  they  sink  and  rise, 

Hear  shouts  resound  that  rend  the  very  skies, 

Then  with  attention  listens  every  ear; 

Each  face  now  flushed  with  joy,  now  pale  with  fear, 

Then  clap  their  hands  and  admiration  breathe, 

And  his  lov'd  name  with  loud  applauses  wreath  ; 

Now  all  to  silence  sinks  —  but,  hark  !  I  hear 

The  accents  of  one  voice,  distant  and  clear, 

"Where  those  bright  liberties  we  once  profess'd  ? 

And  sacred  privileges  ever  bless'd  ? 

And  where  the  honors  which  we  once  enjoy'd  ? 


Y8  A    VISION    OF   THE    MIND. 

All  by  his  usurpations  foul  destroy'd. 
Inch  by  inch  he  crowded  out  our  day, 
Till  over  all  he  holds  despotic  sway. 
And  darkness  now  is  curtain'd  in  the  door, 
Where  shone  the  light  of  Freedom's  sun  before. 
Arise  and  bid  defiance  to  his  might, 
And  strike  for  Liberty  and  for  the  right  ; 
Haste  and  widely  spread  the  loud  alarm  ! 
Gird  on  the  sword  and  nerve  the  warrior's  arm, 
Revenge  the  wrongs  of  our  much  injur'd  land 
Upon  its  foes,  'tis  Duty's  stern  command, 
And  by  the  aid  of  heaven  and  mortal  powers. 
Regain  those  liberties  that  once  were  ours, 

c1  ' 

Or  dye  in  blood  these  bright  surrounding  plains, 
Spilt  by  our  hands  from  out  our  foremen's  veins." 

It  paused.     One  form  was  standing  up  alone, 
And  that  with  excellence  superior  shone  ; 
His  ample  forehead,  unconcealed  and  fair, 
Show'd  well  some  noble  gift  was  hidden  there  ; 
"Revenge  "  was  pictured  on  that  fervent  brow, 
And  deep  within  a  storm  seem'd  gathering  now, 
While  to  high  heaven  he  breathed  a  solemn  vow, 
And  seem'd  to  call  for  aid  from  the  Most  High, 
And  aid  was  given  —  in  flashes  from  his  eye  ; 
And  then  as  if  the  answering  thunder's  roll 
Had  unobserved  dropp'd  down  into  his  soul, 
"To  arms  !  to  arms  !  to  arms  !  "  he  loudly  cries, 
And  at  his  call  the  congregations  rise 
As  thick  as  "autumn's  frost-blanch'd  forest  leaves, 
When  swept  in  clouds  before  a  stirring  breeze, — 


A   VISION    OF   THE   MIND  79 

Earth  shakes  and  trembles  as  their  footsteps  fall. 
And  Vengeance  is  the  universal  call. 
"  Victory  or  death  "  is  breathed  from  every  tongue 
AVith  untold  ardor  by  the  old  and  young. 
All  move  with  measured  tread  in  haste  along, 
Upon  the  wheels  of  mind  and  power  of  song, 
Each  heart  is  firm  resolv'd,  each  arm  made  strong, 
And  though  each  bosom  burns  with  ardent  fire, 
Still  the  one  voice  each  throbbing  heart  inspires, 
And  nerves  each  arm  the  sheathless  sword  to  wield 
In  self-defense  upon  the  battle-field. 

As  when  the  winds  with  distant  forests  war, 
And  their  leaf-woven  banners  wave  afar, 
The  noise  come  rushing  on  the  listening  ear, 
As  heard  far  off,  then  near,  and  still  more  near. 
Like  noise,  into  my  inner  senses  came 
As  moved  this  mass,  as  billows  on  the  main  ; 
I  see  them  now  in  contest  fierce  engage, 
Arms  clash  with  arms  and  wildest  furies  rage, 
Hear  shouts  of  loudest  triumph,  sink  and  rise, 
That  shake  the  earth  and  roll  along  the  skies  — 
The  foeman's  ranks  give  way,  and  o'er  the  ground 
His  dead  in  heaps  lay  scattered  'round  and  'round  — 
He  flees  for  safety,  hurrying  o'er  the  strand, 
And  freedom  once  again  smil'd  on  that  land. 

Here  is  the  power  of  Eloquence,  thought  I, 
Given  to  few,  and  from  some  hand  on  high. 

I  look'd  again  — but  all  had  pass'd  away, 
The  vision  clos'd  as  set  the  orb  of  day. 


80  TRAGIC    SCENES. 


TRAGIC  SCENES  OF  REAL  LIFE. 


From  that  deep   source   from   whence    there   constant 

springs 

A  ceaseless  tide  of  thought,  that  on  fleet  wing 
Comes  from,  and  goes  to  dark  oblivious  night, 
One  nobler  thought  came,  bursting  forth  in  might; 
And  engine-like,  drew  freighted  trains  along, 
Upon  the  wheels  of  thought,  and  power  of  song, 
Which  as  they  moved  along  the  track  survey'd 
Of  nature's  works  in  truth  and  beauty  laid, 
The  clouds  roll'd  back  that  long  hud  hid  the  past, 
And  bared  to  view  broad  regions  strange  and  vast; 
Through  mem'ry's  glass  surveyed  the  sacred  scene 
Of  cherish'd  life  that  long,  long  since  had  been, 
And  touch'd  a  deep-toned  string,  and  woke  a  strain 
So  heavenly  sweet,  poor  mortals  could  not  name; 
Then  swept  with  hurried  hand  the  magic  lyre, 
And  set  the  longing  souls  of  men  on  fire ; 
And  in  a  car  of  flame  bore  them  away 
To  heavenly  scenes  where  shines  more  glorious  day; 
Pictur'd  such  scenes  as  made  each  bosom  swell 
With  new  emotions  at  each  strain  that  fell, 
As  o'er  some  wild  and  tragic  scene  it  threw 
The  glowing  beauties  of  immortal  hue. 

Now  to  a  humble  cottage  leads  the  way, 
Where  peace  had  ever  held  a  joyful  sway, 


TRAGIC   SCENES.  81 

And  sweet  enjoyment  own'd  a  happy  home 

Within  each  bosom,  sheltered  by  this  dome; 

Here  two  fond  parents  lived,  and  love  enjoy'd  ; 

No  hostile  edicts  had  their  bliss  annoy'd, 

Far  from  the  care-worn  world  dissever'd  wide, 

This  happy  circle  grouped,  and  side  by  side 

Poured  out  their  thoughts,   and  shared  life's  sun  and 

showers 

In  a  domestic  way,  and  joy  rolled  on  the  hours, 
And  unfeign'd  love  went  out  from  heart  to  heart. 
Which  fresh  enjoyments  to  each  one  imparts. 
Bright,  cheerful  looks  the  lingering  hours  beguil'd  ; 
Here  a  fond  brother  and  a  sister  smil'd  ; 
And  ever  and  anon  a  lover  came, 
A  lofty  soul,  with  noble  heart  inflam'd, 
And  sweetly  spent  a  few  fleet-gliding  hours, 
Roll'd  swiftly  on  by  warm  affection's  powers; 
For  who  can  tell  how  swift  the  moments  glide, 
When  lovers  meet,  and  love's  mysterious  tide 
Flows  to  and  from  the  heart,  and  from  the  eye 
To  eye  strange  stolen  looks  unbidden  fly. 
But,  lo  !  a  change.     The  hostile  trumpet  blows  ; 
O'er  hill  and  vale  are  breath'd  ten  thousand  woes. 
War,  war  !  resounds  and  rings  in  every  ear, 
Lisp'd  from  pale  lips,  half  dead  with  trembling  fear, 
And  on  the  wind  these  hated  mandates  fly, 
Wounds  every  ear  and  waters  every  eye  : 
"  Who  hath  the  youthful  strength,  fit  arms  to  bear 
Gird  on,  and  rush  into  the  field  of  war, 
And,  if  it  be  requir'd,  your  lives  lay  down, 
For  your  own  country's  sake,  and  for  its  crown." 
F 


82  TRAGIC    SCENES. 

The  inmates  of  this  cottage  heard  the  cry, 
And  brother  and  the  loved  one  now  lay  by 
Their  humble  garbs,  and  wrap  their  manly  forms 
In  martial  robes  to  meet  the  coming  storms. 

They  now  with  friends  must  part,  leave  all  so  dear 

To  youthful  minds,  sweet  home,  and  happy  cheer, 

For  the  dread  field  of  strife  —  for  death  and  fear 

Each  fond  one's  cheek  is  kiss'd,  each  hand  is  pressM  - 

Tears  choke  up  utterance  —  from  each  swelling  breast 

Roll  soul-breav'd  sighs,  hearts  throb,  and  words  are  few- 

They  part ;  and  in  the  distance,  wave  adieu, 

Then  to  the  contest  hasten,  while  they  mourn 

Themselves  from  home  and  all  its  blessings  torn. 

While  they  in  silence  hurry  on  their  way, 

Behind  their  thoughts  doth  linger  and  would  stay, 

Ere  they  should  mix  in  battle's  bloody  fray. 

All  scenes  of  former  days  more  distant  grow, 

And  on  each  side  a  wider  contrast  show, 

Till  mountains,  hills  and  valleys  robed  in  green, 

Rise  up,  extend  and  stretch  themselves  between, 

And  each  familiar  sight  is  lost  to  view, 

And  all  that  eye  can  scan  is  strange  and  new. 

The  camp  is  reached  —  strange  faces  press  around, 

And  on  the  air  is  wafted  stranger  sounds  ; 

How  changed  indeed  !  the  rude  and  haughty  stare, 

Takes  now  the  place  of  smiles  from  lov'd  ones  fair, 

And  martial  music  now  that  rolls  along, 

Supplies  the  place  of  voices  joined  in  song 

The  vulgar  throat  is  heard  to  curse  and  swear 

Where  once  went  up  the  pure  and  holy  prayer. 


TRAGIC    SCENES.  83 

And  for  the  wholesome  shelter'd  neat-clad  bed, 
The  cold  dew-covered  ground  is  used  instead. 
Hard  to  forsake  a  constant  joy-fed  life 
For  the  rude  soldier's  fare  —  the  field  of  strife, 
Voices  of  friends,  familiar,  fond  and  dear, 
For  noise  of  throngs  and  din  of  arms  they  bear, 
Parental  tender  looks,  for  lowering  miens  — 
And  love's  warm  glances  for  the  saber's  gleams. 

But  such  it  was,  and  night  came  slowly  on, 

And  sleepless  hours  were  passed  ere  morning  dawn  — 

Another  bustling  day,  and  next  the  strife  — 

When  force  would  meet  opposing  force,  and  life 

Would  pour  out  life  —  another  night  sweeps  by, 

And  morning  streaks  the  oriental  sky, 

The  matin  trumpet  gives  the  loud  alarm, 

And  bids  the  slumbering  field  awake  to  arms. 

Each  from  his  nightly  couch,  the  damp,  cold  ground 

(With  but  a  blanket  loosely  wrapp'd  around), 

Springs  forth  surprised,  and  with  half  open  eyes, 

Looks  now  on  earth  and  now  upon  the  skies, 

To  learn  their  post  and  mission  for  the  day, 

For  in  their  dreams  they  had  been  borne  away 

To  visit  once  again  their  happy  home, 

And  live  o'er  days  that  long,  long  since  had  flown  ; 

And  when  awakened  by  the  morn's  first  beams, 

They  thought  themselves  still  'mid  their  native  scenes. 

But  looking  'round  on  all,  above,  below, 

Awoke  the  strange  reality  to  know, 

And  grasping  arms  offensive  or  to  shield, 


84  TRAGIC    SCENES. 

Soon  banded  all  appear  on  battle  field, 

And  scouts  are  out,  to  search  with  watchful  eye  — 

When,  lo  !  a  grove  of  spears,  all  brandish'd  high, 

And  gleaming  in  the  sun,  burst  on  the  view, 

While  an  unbroken  mass  in  darker  hue, 

Roll'd  like  a  swelling  tide  upon  the  plain, 

Bearing  grim  Death  and  surging  like  the  main, 

Until  the  far-off  hills  half  hid  from  sight, 

(That  seem'd  yet  curtain'd  in  the  shades  of  night), 

Mov'd  with  a  misty  cloud  ;  and  on  the  breeze 

A  murmur  rose,  as  tempest-hoven  seas. 

As  stretch'd  the  cloud  along,  the  nearer  end 
Turn'd  into  foaming  steeds,  and  armed  men, 
Which  came  as  broken  billows  from  afar, 
And  with  them  brought  the  clamorous  sounds  of  war. 

Now  host  opposes  host  in  dreadful  fray, 

And  rolls  the  din  of  battle  far  away  ; 

Now  speaks  the  cannon  in  its  thunder  tones, 

And  laden  is  the  air  with  dying  groans, 

As  men  and  horses  fall  on  either  hand. 

Death,  grim  and  fearful,  takes  his  ghastly  stand, 

And  pours  the  ebbing  tide  of  life  away, 

From  youthful  hearts  that  have  just  left  their  play  ; 

Dark  human  gore  streams  o'er  the  trodden  ground, 

And  Havoc,  heap'd  on  Havoc,  weeps  around. 

Now  host  meets  host,  with  bayonets  between  ; 

Now  sabers  fiercely  glare  and  broad-swords  gleam, 

Now  plunging  in  the  heart  with  fearful  ire, 

Now  dripping  with  life's  blood,  now  flashing  fire. 


TRAGIC    SCENES.  85 

The  brother  and  the  lov'd  one  side  by  side, 
Fight  brave  as  bravest  in  the  battle  tried. 
A  beardless  boy  is  on  their  right,  as  brave, 
And  he  has  won  immortal  honors  —  save 
To  these  two  precious  youth  he  lends  more  care 
Than  to  his  country's  cause,  which  seems  not  fair  — 
Engages  in  the  fiercest  contest  here, 
Meets  Danger's  palest  face  without  a  fear, 
Dares  to  hold  combat  with  the  skill'd  and  strong, 
And  shines  a  new-found  star  amid  the  throng  — 
Quick  in  defense  the  oppress'd  his  power  know, 
Hope  to  each  friend  and  terror  to  each  foe ; 
Over  these  favor'd  two  keeps  watchful  eye 
Of  every  kind  of  danger  hov'ring  nigh. 

And  now  this  lover,  with  a  foeman  strives  ; 
Both  strike  and  fiercely  grapple  for  their  lives  — 
Now  through  the  ranks  a  fierce  opponent  wades, 
Wielding  with  giant  arm  a  deadly  blade, 
Wrath  on  his  brow  and  vengeance  in  his  eye, 
And,  burning  with  revenge,  he  whispers,   "  Die  !  " 
Above  this  lover's  head,  his  sword  in  air, 
Soon  to  descend  and  deal  destruction  there, 
Had  not  this  youth  (as  if  some  spirit  sped), 
Raised  his  quick  arm  and  struck  the  assassin  dead, 
Then  turn'd  and  with  his  crimson  wreaking  steel, 
The  other  gasping  laid  upon  the  field. 
Joy  and  amazement  sparkled  from  the  eye 
Of  him  who  else  had  been  invoked  to  die  ; 
A  deep-soul'd,  gratitude-fill'd  look  was  all 
The  moment  would  allow  —  the  leader's  call 


86  TRAGIC    SCENES. 

Now  loudly  sounds,  coin  in  and  ing  them  away, 

To  mix  in  other  scenes  of  bloody  fray. 

And  though  the  contest  raged  and  the  tierce  strife 

Grew  hotter  still,  and  death  and  life 

Oft  struggled  here,  yet  still  this  saved  one  yearn'd 

To  breathe  out  thanks  that  in  his  bosom  burivd, 

To  him  who  had  prolong'd  life's  flame  within, 

And  saved  from  death  amid  the  battle's  din. 


Through  many  bloody  scenes  that  day  they  ranged, 
Till  Victory's  shout  from  rank  to  rank  proclaimed 
'Twas  done,  and  foemen  fleeing  here  and  there, 
Told  whom  success  had  crowned,  and  whom  despair; 
These  being    fled,  and  those  rejoiced.     Again 
The  camp  contains  and  friend  embraces  friend  ; 
The  lov'd  one,  youth  and  brother  nobly  meet, 
And  with  o'erflowing  souls  each  other  sfreet. 

O  O 

Their  feelings  deep  no  longer  brook  control, 

But  swelling  now  outgush  from  either  soul  ; 

Warm  hands  are  pressed,  and  copious  tears  are  shed, 

And  blessings  called  to  rest  upon  each  head  ; 

With  burning  eloquence  they  tell  the  tale 

Of  dangers  passed  —  none  dreaming  they  could  fail, 

But  high  above  all  conflicts  each  could  see 

Within  his  bosom  written,   "  Victory  !  " 

And  the  youth  said,  with  speaking  eye  and  soul, 

Some  higher  power  did  all  his  acts  control. 

The  brother  gazing  in  those  speaking  eyes 

Of  this  fair  youth  :  "  Ema  !  sister  ! "  strangely  cries, 

"  Angel  of  earth  !     What !  sister  'I  —  Can  it  be  ? 


TRAGIC    SCENES.  87 

Amid  these  frantic  scenes  ?  —  Ah,  yes,  I  see 

That  soul  of  yours  overflowing  in  each  look  — 

How  could  you  leave  your  father's  home  and  brook  ?  - 

But,  no  !  —  it's  not  — rather  some  spirit  fair." 

She  lifts  her  cap  —  down  falls  her  curling  hair- 

A  perfect  lady,  filled  with  perfect  grace, 

Look'd  from  her  eyes  and  shone  within  her  face. 

All  stood  amazed  —  wild  wonder  seized  a  host, 

Amid  surprise  and  admiration  lost  — 

To  see  a  girl,  of  every  charm  possSss'd, 

With  th'  army  mix'd,  and  in  a  soldier's  dress. 

The  lover  rush'd  and  clasp'd  her  in  his  arms  ; 

"What  Power,"  says  he,   "  amid  these  dire  alarms, 

Has  shielded,  or  what  partial  God  has  nerv'd 

Thee  to  protect,  and  this  frail  life  preserve  ! 

Could  I  have  dream'd  that  'twas  a  charming  maid 

Whose  arm  defended  and  whose  ready  blade 

Had  brought  the  fierce  assassin  to  the  ground 

O  cj 

Ere  his  drawn  sword  had  struck  the  fatal  wound  ? 

O,  Virtuous  !  Brave  !     Thou  fairest  of  the  fair  ! 

This  life  was  quite  unworthy  of  your  care. 

What  for  this  act  from  me  will  you  demand  ? 

Yours  it  shall  be  ! "  She  blushed  and  said,  "  Your  hand  !" 

In  voice  so  soft  and  tones  so  sweetly  low 

That  few  could  hear  the  words  ;  yet  all  might  know. 

Hearts  most  engrossed  to  tender  feelings  yield, 

As  snow  to  spring  when  melting  on  the  field. 

He  reached  it  forth,  "  By  promise  it  is  thine  " 

He  said,  "  and  thou,  a  precious  prize,  art  mine. 

"  Who,  on  the  doubtful  field  of  bloody  war, 

Has  e'er  before  been  bless'd  with  such  a  star  ? " 


88  TRAGIC    SCENES. 

And  now,  and  here,  their  hearts  and  hands  were  bound, 
Each  one  to  each  in  holy  wedlock  join'd. 

Now  still  in  magic  strains  it  rolls  along 

O'er  scenes  where  wild  surprise  wak'd  feelings  strong, 

And  painting  these  in  mental  gilt  and  gold, 

With  sweetest  numbers  charm'd  the  list'ning  soul, 

As  robed  in  thoughts  of  rainbow-blended  hue, 

It  swiftly  passed  before  the  enchanted  view, 

And  captive  bore  ea<5h  sympathy  away 

On  its  increasing  tide.     The  plain,  the  gay, 

The  old  and  young  alike  enraptured  hear, 

Now  smile  for  joy,  and  now  let  drop  a  tear  ; 

While  Love  and  Hate,  bright  Hope  and  dark  Despair, 

And  Life  and  Death  are  strangely  mingled  there, 

So  that  this  feeble  tongue  could  never  tell 

One-tenth  the  pictures  drawn  and  painted  well. 

One  theme — a  son,  who  left  his  native  home 

Ere  childhood's  flush  from  his  smooth  cheek  had  flown. 

Long  years  had  fled,  and  in  their  wheel  old  Time 

Had  hung  his  progress  and  in  every  clime 

Had  wrought  a  change.     Here  life  had  pass'd  away, 

And  there,  bright,  sunny  locks  had  turn'd  to  gray  ; 

The  mother  anxious  watched,  but  all  in  vain  ; 

From  her  departed,  still  no  tiding  came. 

Her  tottering  steps  were  wending  to  the  tomb, 

And  on  her  fading  cheek,  despair  and  gloom, 

Sat  brooding  grief.     Thus  by  parental  care 

Worn  out,  'twas  once,  while  she  a  fervent  prayer 

Was  breathing  forth  to  heaven's  eternal  God, 


TRAGIC    SCENES.  89 

That  her  dear,  darling  boy,  now  cast  abroad 
Upon  the  teeming  world,  might  shielded  be 
From  dangers  of  this  life  none  else  could  see; 
And  bring  him  home  to  bless  her  waning  days, 
And  her  to  cheer,  while  life's  last,  lingering  rays 
Were  growing  dimmer  still  at  every  hour, 
And  soon  must  yield  to  Death's  dissolving  power, 
As  to  the  frost  must  yield  the  smiling  flower. 

Once  while  her  prayer  was  being  winged  on  high, 
A  wearied  stranger  was  approaching  nigh, 
And  caught  the  earnest  accents  in  his  ear, 
And  pausing  at  the  door  he  stood  to  hear. 
Each  rising  sentence  breathed  upon  his  soul, 
And  bade  its  waters  as  an  ocean  roll, 
When  winds  were  high  and  blowing  uncontroled  ; 
For  he  it  was  for  whom  this  prayer  arose 
And  that  same  voice  he'd  heard  ere  sweet  repose 
In  early  years  his  eyes  had  nightly  closed, 
When  he  in  childhood  played,  and  all  was  bright, 
And  life's  fair  morn  was  rosy  with  delight. 

As  streams  from  never-failing  fountains  flow, 
So  prayer  from  Christian  hearts  who  truly  know 
Its  power  to  bring  the  blessing  which  it  craves, 
To  sooth  and  feed  the  hungry  soul  it  laves  ; 
Thus  from  this  mother's  Christian  heart  arose 
Such  holy  prayer  at  every  evening's  close, 
As  flowed  away  to  heaven's  eternal  throne, 
Bearing  desires  and  Avishes  all  her  own; 
So  pure  and  earnest,  full  of  holy  love, 


90  TRAGIC    SCENES. 

That  God  in  mercy  heard,  and  from  above, 

With  holy  hand  unseen,  had  guided  home 

Her  wand'ring  boy,  ere  life's  frail  spark  had  flown. 

To  be  a  joy  in  her  declining  days, 

Just  as  the  sun's  last  lingering  rays 

Are  beauty  to  the  eve.     And  now  again 

Goes  from  her  inmost  soul  the  deep  Amen  . 

The  stranger,  moved  with  feeling,  forth  at  once 

In  silence  breath'd  a  soul-felt,  deep  response  — 

Rapp'd  at  the  door  ;  it  ope'd  and  the  same  form 

That  had  bent  o'er  him  in  life's  sunny  morn, 

Now  stood  before  his  gaze.     Though  bow'd  with  care 

And  blanch'd  with  storms,  the  self-same  soul  was  there, 

And  look'd  at  once  in  tenderness  on  him. 

His  soul,  big  with  emotions,  swell'd  within, 

And  press'd  the  fountain  of  his  tears,  whose  flood 

Gush'd  from  his  eyes  (warm'd  by  the  quicken'd  blood). 

Which  down  his  cheeks  in  copious  streamlets  roll'd, 

Back'd  by  a  power  unaided,  uncontrol'd. 

He  was  absorbed  in  feelings  deep  and  pure, 

Which  mern'ry  brought,  and  effort  could  not  cure, 

Then  cried,   "Thy  prayer  is  answer'd  —  thou  hast  won  ; 

Mother  !  'tis  I !  —  'tis  George,  thy  long  lost  son  !  " 

Back  roll'd  the  tide  of  life  —  hush'd  was  her  breath, 

And  on  her  cheek  the  image  pale  of  death  ; 

Joy  and  surprise  took  her  in  their  control, 

And  seem'd  dissevering  body  and  the  soul. 

But  when  the  tide  of  life  seem'd  ebb\l  away, 

It  soon  flowed  back  into  its  wonted  bay, 

And  gave  the  cheeks  a  more  than  mortal  glow; 

Seeming  as  youth  returned  in  its  deep  flow, 


TRAGIC    SCENES,  91 

And  age  renew'd,  that  she  again  might  share 
Her  son's  return,  and  feel  the  force  of  prayer. 

And  now  the  lyre  is  swept  with  gentle  hand, 

And  from  its  murmuring  strings,  sounds  sweet  and  bland 

Arise  and  mingle  with  the  swelling  soul, 

And  love  in  many  'witching  spells  unrolls, 

As  twines  its  circling  ivy  'round  the  heart, 

And  kisses  sweetly  every' vital  part. 

Folding  two  noble  souls  in  its  embrace, 

Though  oceans  spread  an  intervening  space  ; 

Yet  true  to  every  trust  they  both  remain, 

And  feed  within  their  breasts  Love's  living  flame. 

Years  sweep  along  —  met  they  have  not  —  nor  cast 

One  look  save  in  the  mem'ry  of  the  past. 

The  one  among  cold  strangers  moves  alone, 

The  other  peacefully  remains  at  home  ; 

Though  different  seem  their  lots  they  are  the  same  — 

Both  for  each  other  live  —  constant  remain  ; 

Though  different  scenes  they  witness  from  without, 

Within  no  contrasts  rise,  or  fear  or  doubt. 

No  doubtful  clouds  obscure  their  future  sky, 

But  "  Constancy"  o'er  all  is  written  high  ; 

And,  looking  down  the  stream  of  life,  they  see 

By  faith's  far-reaching  eye  when  both  shall  be 

As  one  in  holy  wedlock  joined,  and  Hope 

To  every  joy  applies  her  microscope. 

The  one  returns  again,  unknown  as  yet, 

And  seeks  the  spot  where  oft  before  they've  met, 


92  TRAGIC    SCENES. 

In  converse  sweet  at  evening's  holy  hour, 

And  where  affection  with  a  gentle  power 

Had  planted  flowers  of  love  about  each  heart. 

Approaching  near,  these  well  known  scenes  impart 

A  joy,  that  through  each  nervelet  sways  control, 

And  drinks  refresh'd  from  the  observing  soul. 

In  former  times  here  he  was  wont  to  stroll, 

And  in  the  charms  of  childhood  to  behold 

All  things  in  beauty,  every  plant  and  tree, 

And  saw  them  all  as  he  was  wont  to  see, 

Uncloak'd  with  care,  wild,  fetterless  and  free  ; 

But  as  he  nears  the  sacred  spot  where  they 

Was  wont  to  meet  at  hours  of  twilight  gray 

A  gentle  voice  came  trolling  in  his  ear, 

Freighted  with  well  known  tones  and  accents  dear  ; 

He  starts  with  soul  entranced  —  he  lists  —  the  same 

Again  fleet-wing'd  in  silvery  accents  came  ; 

Intent,  all  eagerness  he  stands,  and  mute  ; 

No  nerve  or  muscle  moves,  how'er  minute  ; 

His  name  is  lisp VI  —  he  starts  — intenter  grows, 

While  through  his  veins  wild  feelings  strangely  flow  ; 

One  moment  rushing  center  at  the  heart, 

The  next  diffused  through  every  vital  part, 

That  voice  so  sweet  heard  oft  in  other  days, 

Wakes  fond  remembrance  in  a  thousand  ways. 

The  evening  zephyrs  'mid  the  flowers  sigh'd, 

Fair  Beauty  srmTd  in  all  the  prospect  wide, 

The  field,  the  grove,  each  object  wore  a  charm, 

And  seem'd  to  rest  in  well  pleas'd  Nature's  arms. 

But  sweeter  far  was  that  soft  voice  to  him 

Than  all  those  happy  sights  and  sounds  had  been. 


TRAGIC    SCENES.  93 

Now  floats  this  well  known  voice  in  accents  clear, 

And  brings  these  words  distinctly  to  his  ear  : 

"Upon  this  spot  my  heart  was  woo'd  and  won 

By  Edmond,  honor'd  Virtue's  noble  son. 

The  gentle  influence  of  his  speaking  eye 

Is  like  the  sumbeams  on  yon  evening  sky, 

Or  like  as  when  a  trembing  drop  of  dew, 

Within  those  beams  show  every  sever'd  hue  ; 

And  when  in  fullness  of  his  soul  he  spoke, 

'Twas  sweet  as  ancient  Memnon's  morning  note. 

His  sacred  promise  of  fidelity 

To  me  I  know  is  sure,  as  sure  as  can  be  ; 

On  this  I  hang  my  earnest  heart  —  my  all  — 

And  by  it  ever  stand,  or  with  it  fall. 

And  where  is  Edmond  now  ?  "  (it  louder  cries, 

And  zephyr-wafted  plainer — wider — dies.) 

He  forward  rush'd  and  cried,   "Edmond  is  here  ! 
Come  once  again  to  meet  his  Ema  dear, " 
(And  then  he  fondly  clasp'd  her  in  his  arms), 
"Nor  will  he  more  be  sever'd  from  her  charms." 
It  ceased  —  around  —  below  and  from  above 
Each  strain  left  smiling — these,  embraced  in  love. 


A   NIGHTLY   SCENE. 


A  NIGHTLY  SCENE. 


JFow  grand  and  peaceful  is  a  nightly  scene 
When  busy  life  is  hush'd,  and  night's  pale  queen, 
Diffusing  light,  in  grandeur  walks  the  sky, 
Revealing  to  the  enraptured  gazer's  eye 
Soft  beauties  else  unseen  —  no\v,  half  concealed, 
The  ocean,  mountain,  forest  and  the  field. 

When  countless  stars  that  glitter  from  above, 
Kiss  slumbering  earth  with  whispers  of  their  love; 
Or  when  on  ocean  they  appear  to  be 
High  up  in  heaven  or  down  deep  in  the  sea; 
While  here  and  there,  borne  on  their  silent  way, 
Some  fleeting  clouds  obscure  the  moon's  pale  ray, 
Which  add  new  beauty  to  the  quiet  scene, 
Rolling  their  shadows  o'er  the  deep  serene  ; 
Then  disappear  forever  from  the  sight, 
Vanish  away  in  common  shades  of  night. 
While  momentary  veiling  moon  and  star, 
They  show  more  fully  what  they  truly  are, 
Akin  to  fleeting  visions  of  the  mind, 
While  from  above  Eternal  Wisdom  shines, 
And  the  Ubiquitary  God  displays 
The  star-decked  grandeur  _of  his  works  and  ways. 
Nocturnal  scenes  like  these,  a  single  view 
Recall  to  mind,  while  on  the  ocean  blue  ; 


A   NIGHTLY   SCENE  95 

Upon  one  hand  lay  hills  and  vales  enchained. 
And  on  the  other,  stretch'd  the  mirror'd  main, 
Like  some  tremendons  monster  lull'd  to  rest 
With  the  wide  arch  of  heaven  on  its  breast  ; 
And  cradled  by  its  side,  the  slumbering  land. 
With  moon-lit  rocks  and  mountains  huge  and  grand. 
Hard  on  the  water's  edge  and  mountain's  side, 
A  lofty  elm  rear'd  itself  in  pride, 
As  though  an  ensign  set  'twixt  land  and  sea, 
And  proud  between  such  mighty  powers  to  be. 

Not  far  away,  wasted  by  many  a  storm, 

A  cottage  stood,  lonely,  but  not  forlorn; 

Its  inmates  there  were  wrapp'd  in  silent  sleep, 

Cureless  of  all  about,  on  land  or  deep. 

So  we,  'mid  dangers  and  'mid  beauties  lie, 

Unconscious  quite  that  either  hover  nigh. 

Upon  the  right,  high  rear'd  the  rocky  steep, 

And  hurl'd  defiance  back  upon  the  deep, 

And  seem'd  to  say,   ' '  In  all  your  storm-beat  rage, 

Touch  not  these  slumbering  ones  from  age  to  age, 

And  here  your  bounds  forevermore  must  be, 

Though  white  capp'd  waves  drive  fiercely  o'er  the  sea. " 

All  here  was  grandeur,  born  of  God  divine  — 
Sleeping  grandeur,  fit  to  impress  the  mind 
With  visions  rich,  which  fortune  can  not  blind, 
Nor  Lethe's  stream  with  all  its  waters  bind. 


<)6  THE   ANCIENT   CASTLE. 


THE  ANCIENT  CASTLE. 


On  the  rude  ocean's  wild  and  rock-built  shore, 
Where  bleak  winds  howl  and  billows  dash  and  roar, 
An  ancient  castle  stands,  massive  and  high, 
With  moss-couch'd  turrets  looking  to  the  sky, 
Which  seem  to  frown  as  frown  the  storms  on  them, 
Or  smile  when  night  unveils  her  diadems, 
Or  gazing  up  into  the  azure  blue, 
They  seem  responsive  to  that  mellow  hue. 

And  when  mild  Calm  wide  settles  on  the  hills, 
Lulls  the  crazed  sea,  and  the  fierce  tempest  stills, 
These  waters  mirror  forth  its  mossy  face, 
And  high  and  massive  walls,  with  perfect  grace, 
More  true  than  hand  can  paint,  or  pencil  trace. 
Then  this  queer  antiquary  seems  to  be 
Both  on  the  shore  and  underneath  the  sea «, 
Then  spirits  strange  appear  to  near  the  spot, 
And  tell  o'er  tales  that  have  been  long  forgot, 
About  those  hands  that  bade  these  walls  arise, 
In  other  times,  beneath  the  self-same  skies  ; 
And  eyes  that  saw  these  beauties  long  ago, 
And  busy  minds  that  felt  a  kindred  glow. 
Of  inspiration,  kindl'd  by  the  sight, 
As  we,  now,  wonder-fill'd  with  strange  delight. 


THE   ANCIENT   CASTLE.  97 

O  what  emotions  follow  in  their  train, 

As  we  survey  these  works  without  a  name  ! 

The  throngs  that  crowded  once  these  spacious  rooms 

Long  since  have  slumber'd  in  their  silent  tombs; 

And  time  has  written,  with  his  pencil  gray, 

Upon  these  walls,  ' '  Ages  have  passed  away 

Since  first  these  stones  by  human  hand  were  pil'd, 

This  structure  reared,  now  lonely,  waste  and  wild; 

Those  hands  have  died,  and,  too,  without  a  name  — 

The  structure  has  outliv'd  the  builders'  fame." 

G          5 


98  O   FOR   A   WALK   AMONG   THE   STARS. 


O  FOR  A  WALK  AMONG  THE   STARS 


0  could  I  wing  my  restless  soul — 

To  yonder  heaven  I  'd  take  my  flight ; 

1  'd  range  yon  vault  from  Pole  to  Pole, 
And  view  those  diadems  of  night  ; 

As  quick  as  thought  would  I  reveal 
The  hidden  mysteries  of  the  skies, 

Remove  the  veil  that  conceals 

Their  brightest  glories  from  my  eyes. 

Could  I  but  rove  creation  o'er, 

And  view  its  wonders  far  and  broad, 
On  wings  of  light  I  'd  quickty  soar, 

And  search  yon  blazonry  of  God; 
Explore  yon  star,  which  seems  to  shine 

To  decorate  the  silent  night 
In  world-wide  grandeur  all  sublime, 

And  basking  in  Eternal  Light. 

Yon  twinkling  host,  which  now  I  see, 
That 's  ever  shone  since  time  begun, 

When  near  approached  would  prove  to  be 
Eternal,  rolling,  blazing  suns  ; 

How  grand  the  scene  could  I  but  fly 
Through  all  the  boundlessness  of  space, 


O   FOR   A   WALK   AMONG   THE    STARS.  99 

Survey  the  works  of  the  Most  High, 
His  matchless  proofs  of  boundless  grace. 

But  while  I'm  bound  in  flesh  below, 

Contented  I  mnst  always  be 
Of  what  I  see,  and  hear,  and  know 

Of  yonder  vast  immensity. 
Though  small  the  part  which  we  behold, 

Compared  with  all  His  works  above, 
Yet  quite  enough  for  to  unfold 

Omniscient  Power  and  boundless  love. 

Then  as  we  tread  this  earthly  sphere, 

From  which  we  can  not  climb  or  stray, 
But  gazing  upward  to  revere 

And  longing  for  to  soar  away  ; 
Will  not  these  longings  be  repaid, 

When  soul  from  mortal  coil  is  free  ? 
Shall  we  not  rise  above  the  shade, 

And  touch,  inspired,  a  higher  key? 

Then  soul  immortal,  freed  from  clay, 

Will  seek  its  own  affinity, 
And  basking  in  the  smiles  of  day, 

Converse  with  holy  Deity ; 
Communing  with  that  love  divine, 

That  all  his  works  doth  show, 
Will  rise  amid  that  love  to  shine, 

And  of  its  ample  fullness  know. 


100   REFLECTIONS  ON  THE  SETTING  OF  THE  SUN. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  THE  SETTING  OF  THE  SUN. 


The  sun  is  in  the  West  declining, 
Slowly  down  he  seems  to  move,  — 

Obliquely  now  his  rays  are  shining 
On  the  mountain,  on  the  grove. 

Now,  too,  feather'd  tribes  are  singing, 
Hymning  the  Almighty's  praise, 

With  these  the  hills  and  vales  are  ringing  — 
All  a  grateful  tribute  raise. 

How  fast  the  sun  is  disappearing 

Down  behind  the  distant  trees  ! 
And  gentle  evening  comes.     How  cheering  ! 

Nature  seems  to  rest  at  ease. 


Now  the  light  of  day  is  fading, 
And  distant  objects  disappear  ; 

And  now  the  veil  of  night  is  shading 
Every  object  far  and  near. 

As  darkness  winds  her  cloak  around  me, 
Hiding  earthly  scenes  from  view, 

O  how  the  deep'ning  shadows  wound  me, 
And  departed  scenes  renew  ! 


REFLECTIONS   ON    THE    SETTING    OF   THE    SUN.        101 

The  scenes  that  now  have  fled  forever. 

Fled  into  eternity  — 
Will  they  return  ?     "  O,  never  !  never  !  " 

Answers  the  voice  of  destiny. 

The  night  of  Death  is  drawing  near  us, 

With  its  deep  and  gloomy  shade, 
Whose  silent  vault  will  not  revere  us, 

Or  bring  to  us  consoling  aid. 

Olc^Time  is  swiftly  onward  flying, 

None  can  stop  and  none  can  save  ; 
All  creatures  born,  in  health  or  dying  — 

All  are  marching  to  the  grave. 

Each  onward  rolling  day  is  number'd, 

Brings  me  nearer  to  my  end  ; 
Weeks,  months  and  years  roll  unencumber'd, 

Soon  the  grave  I  must  descend. 

And  like  the  sun  that  just  was  setting 

Way  behind  the  western  hills, 
So  I  must  sink  —  oh  !  how  regretting ! 

Yield  to  Death's  all  swaying  will. 

However  long,  O  precious  Jesus, 

We  may  have  on  earth  to  dwell, 
When  this  life  closes,  O  relieve  us 

From  the  stints  of  sin  and  hell. 


102       REFLECTIONS   ON   THE   SETTING   OF   THE   SUN. 

Though  many  years  may  pass  in  sorrow, 
Pure  delight  we  ne'er  shall  n'nd 

In  this  our  earthly  vale  so  narrow, 
Where  must  pass  all  human  kind. 

Grant  while  we  sail  this  sea  of  trouble, 
That  propitious  winds  may  blow, 

Freighted  with  faith  and  courage  double, 
We  may  pass  its  waters  through. 

O,  set  thy  chart  and  lamp  before  me  — 
All  my  hopes  and  strength  caress, 

That  I  may  reach  eternal  glory, 
And  enjoy  true  happiness. 

In  that  fair  land  beyond  the  river, 
O,  my  soul  from  sin  set  free, 

From  every  woe  and  care  deliver, 
Lost  in  heavenly  joys  and  thee. 


LIBERTY.  103 


LIBERTY. 


Ye  sires,  awake  !  ye  sons,  arise ! 

The  land  of  tyranny  despise  ! 

Bid  Freedom's  mottoed  banners  rise, 

And  wave  triumphantly  ; 
Let  them  spread  from  pole  to  pole, 
And  over  every  ocean  roll, 
Till  there  shall  reign  without  control 

One  glorious  Liberty. 

Let  tyrants  from  their  thrones  be  hurl'd, 

The  flag  of  Liberty,  unfurl'd, 

In  every  clime,  o'er  all  the  world, 

And  set  all 'people  free  ; 
And  may  the  day  right  quickly  come, 
When  Freedom  shall  be  nobly  won 
In  every  land  beneath  the  sun, 

And  over  every  sea. 

All  hail  that  brave  and  noble  few 
Who  saved  the  ship,  a  sinking  crew, 
When  freedom  almost  sank  from  view, 

Oppressed  by  tyranny. 
Who  did  our  feeble  country  save 
From  sinking  to  an  endless  grave  ; 
So  wave,  ye  sons,  her  banners  wave, 

And  shout  for  liberty. 


104  LIBERTY. 

Go,  speak  it  with  a  trumpet-horn, 
And  tyrants  of  all  nations  warn 
Of  that  coming  glorious  morn 

When  earth  shall  all  be  free. 
How  then  shall  come  their  solemn  doom, 
When  all  their  power  shall  find  a  tomb, 
And  be  unveiled,  that  glorious  boon, 

The  boon  of  Liberty. 

Go,  and  that  joyful  sound  proclaim, 

Attended  by  Columbia's  name, 

Rolled  on  the  sounding  wheels  of  fame 

In  God-like  majesty; 
Till  every  nation,  near  and  far, 
Shall  hear,  and  looking  to  her  star, 
Oppression  from  her  bounds  debar, 

And  welcome  Liberty. 

Till  every  land  and  every  clime, 
Feeling  that  influence  all  divine, 
Shall  in  the  future  years  of  time 

Be  nobly  bless'd  and  free  ; 
Then  tyrants  from  their  thrones  shall  fall, 
And  kings  obey  at  Freedom's  call, 
And  in  each  soul,  and  over  all, 

Shall  reign  blessed  Liberty. 


INDEPENDENCE   DAY.  105 


INDEPENDENCE    DAY. 


All  hail  this  glad  day  of  the  year  with  great  glory, 
On  which  our  brave  country  declared  herself  free, 

In  sight  of  dread  War,  all  haggard  and  gory, 
And  a  foe  that  was  proud,  and  stronger  than  she. 

O  shout  and  proclaim  it,  ye  nations  around, 

For  worthy  of  praise  she  has  ever  been  found. 

Tell  how  she  arose  to  be  a  great  nation, 
By  driving  her  strong-banded  foes  o'er  the  sea, 

And  building  upon  the  unyielding  foundation 
Of  Wisdom  and  Virtue,  and  bless'd  Liberty. 

0  shout  and  proclaim  it  through  earth  all  around, 

For  worthy  of  praise  she  has  ever  been  found. 

O  tell  IIOAV  her  banners  in  splendor  are  swelling, 
And  speak  with  great  beauty  her  noble  free  birth, 

In  'grandeur  exalted,  all  others  excelling, 
That  stretch  their  dominions  abroad  through  the  earth. 

O  shout  and  proclaim  it,  ye  nations  around, 

For  worthy  of  praise  she  has  ever  been  found. 

Say,  too,  that  her  vessels  now  proudly  are  sailing 
O'er  every  known  ocean,  upborne  by  the  wave, 

While  kingdoms  and  empires  all  ever  are  hailing 
The  flag  of  the  noble,  the  free  and  the  brave. 


106  INDEPENDENCE   DAY.. 

Go  you  all,  ye  nations,  proclaim  the  glad  sound, 
For  just  are  her  precepts,  and  Freedom's  her  bounds. 

Tell  how  in  her  greatness  she  's  daily  increasing, 
And  angels  of  heaven  are  pleading  her  cause, 

While  all  languages  speak  her  praises  unceasing, 
And  waft  her  fair  name  on  the  wings  of  applause. 

O  shout  and  proclaim  her  increasing  renown, 

For  worthy  of  praise  she  has  ever  been  found. 

Yes,  now  in  rare  beauty  she  fondly  is  shining, 
Already  well  conscious  of  her  far-spreading  fame, 

While  nearly  all  nations  around  are  repining 
Beneath  their  own  tyrants'  despotical  chain. 

But  safety  in  her  for  years  may  be  found, 

If  pride  and  vain  glory  do  not  sink  her  down. 

But  what  though  our  pathway  seems  winding  before  us. 

All  strown  with  fair  garlands  and  beautiful  flowers, 
And  heaven,  star-spangled,  seems  now  bending  o'er  us, 

Beguiling  with  smiles  the  by-gliding  hours  ; 
How  soon  all  would  vanish,  should  Providence  frown, 
Her  prospects  would  wither,  and  crumble,  her  crown. 

O,  then,  may  we  pray  to  the  God  of  the  nations 
To  shield  her  fair  shore  with  Liberty's  wing, 

That  Virtue  and  Wisdom  may  guard  her  foundations, 
And  blessings  of  peace  and  prosperity  bring  ; 

And  be  it  proclaimed  through  earth  all  around, 

That  God  is  her  refuge,  and  Faith  is  her  crown. 


ON  THE  AUTHOR'S  TWENTY-FIRST  BIRTH-DAY.     107 


LINES  WRITTEN  ON  THE  AUTHOR'S  TWENTY- 
FIRST   BIRTH-DAY. 


Mysterious  Providence,  whose  matchless  hand 
Sways  times  and  fates  at  thy  all  wise  command, 
How  dost  thou  whirl  the  rapid  wheels  of  time 
To  strangely  fill  some  great,  unknown  design  ; 
Days  come,  weeks  go,  months  fly,  years  pass  away 
Men  live,  flourish,  die,  molder  and  decay  — 
Still  unrelenting  roll  the  wheels  of  time, 
Right  onward  roll,  majestic  and  sublime. 

How  short  the  time  since  I  began  my  course 
On  Time's  unmeasured  and  unbounded  source, 
And  yet  so  swift  has  roll'd  her  wheels,  in  truth 
As  to  have  swept  me  past  the  bounds  of  youth, 
Measured  my  infant  moments  in  a  span, 
Rushed  by  childhood,  and  number'd  me  a  man. 

Helpless  I'm  thrown  upon  her  stormy  waves, 
Doom'd  to  reach  an  endless  and  a  silent  grave  ; 
The  voyage  is  short,  the  day  must  quickly  come 
When  I  must  sink  as  sinks  the  setting  sun, 
But  not  like  him  again  to  glorious  rise, 
Beneath  mortality's  unpeaceful  skies, 
But  rather  dive  in  death's  dark,  slumbering  sea, 
To  rise  again  in  wide  eternity. 


108     ON  THE  AUTHOR'S  TWENTY-FIRST  BIRTH-DAY. 

There,  burnish'd  with  the  Master's  love,  to  shine 
Through  endless  cycles  of  all-coming  time, 
Or  banish'd  from  the  presence  of  his  power, 
Wade  through  the  gloom  of  that  eternal  hour. 

Such  as  a  life  on  earth  I  shall  have  led 

In  virtue's  ways  or  sin's  dark  paths  have  tread, 

This  shall  pronounce  my  future,  final  doom, 

To  in  his  presence  dwell  where  pleasures  bloom, 

Or  in  the  absence  of  his  power,  where  all  is  night, 

And  banish'd  every  ray  of  holy  light. 

For,  as  from  him  came  all  these  god-like  powers, 
And  all  we  are  is  his,  and  naught  is  ours, 
This  thinking  mind  and  deathless  soul  to  save 
Beyond  the  confines  of  the  mould'ring  grave, 
We  must  by  justice  serve  his  right'ous  will, 
Or  fail  to  save,  if  failing  to  fulfill. 

And  now,  great  God,  on  thee  in  faith  I  call 

To  take  me  in  your  arms,  lest  I  unguarded  fall 

Into  temptation's  sin-alluring  path, 

And  blinded,  find  the  ocean  of  thy  wrath. 

O  let  thy  holy  influence  hover  nigh, 

Lest  storms  of  darkness  should  o'ercloud  my  sky, 

And  dread  afflictions  which  the  svorld  doth  know, 

Bring  in  their  train,  their  curses  and  their  woe. 

O  let  thy  heavenly  influence  be  my  guide 

As  I  launch  forth  on  manhood's  boisterous  tide, 

And  steer  my  course  in  ways  by  Thee  design'd  — 

Prove  me  a  benefactor  to  mankind, 


ON  THE  AUTHOR'S  TWENTY-FIRST  BIRTH-DAY.      109 

And  if  one  creature,  I  have  led  astray 
In  paths  secluded  from  fair  Virtue's  way, 
Forgive  me,  Lord  —  that  creature,  O  reclaim, 
And  wash  his  heart  from  sin  and  every  stain. 
Though  such  an  act  by  justice  I  should  rue, 
But,  O  !  forgive  (thou  holy,  just  and  true), 
And  visit  not  its  consequences  on  me, 
Lest  I  be  lost  to  happiness  and  Thee  ; 
And  raise  my  feet  above  this  dangerous  plane, 
And  be  it  mine,  a  better  thing  to  gain. 

O  lift  the  veil  of  darkness  from  my  face, 

That  I  may  see  the  goodness  of  thy  grace, 

And  from  all  sin  and  wickedness  abstain, 

And  walk  in  paths  where  Truth  and  Virtue  reign. 

And  let  thy  lamp  of  Wisdom  on  me  shine, 

Diffusing  light  and  knowledge  in  my  mind, 

Till  groveling  ignorance  be  chased  away, 

And  lives  the  inner  man  in  Wisdom's  day, 

Whose  light  shall  fill  the  floodgates  of  the  soul, 

Till  doubts  subside  and  mysteries  unfold, 

And  every  cloud  be  lifted  from  my  heaven, 

From  whence  thy  smiles  descend  and  love  is  given  ; 

And  sweet  communion  with  those  powers  divine, 

Be  ever  present  with  me,  ever  mine. 


HO  THE  THREE  LOVERS. 


THE  THEEE  LOVERS,  OR  DECEIT  REVENGED. 


A  lady  once,  both  brisk  and  gay, 
Triumphant  lived,  as  I  may  say, 
Or  thought  at  least,  (you  understand,) 
That  with  the  wave  of  her  fair  hand, 
With  artful  looks  and  wits  refin'd, 
With  winning  ways  and  looks  combined, 
Might  gain  with  ease  whose  ever  heart, 
She  felt  disposed  to  take  a  part. 

And  she  —  indeed,  I  must  confess  — 

Did  most  uncommon  powers  possess  ; 

Nor  think  me  partial  if  I  own 

Her  speech  was  sweet,  her  words,  high  flown, 

With  pleasing  mein,  and  air  refined, 

With  sparkling  eyes  and  gorgeous  mind, 

And  gifts  indeed  that's  very  rare 

You  '11  find  bestowed  upon  the  fair  ; 

And  beauty  too  that's  seldom  known 

In  eveiy  look  refulgent  shone. 

And  who,  though  strong  with  reason's  arms, 

Could  war  with  such  resistless  charms  ? 

Or  who  could  weakest  means  devise, 

To  brook  such  language  of  the  eyes  ? 

Or  who  could  offer  self-defense 

Against  such  beauty,  crown'd  with  sense  ? 


THE    THREE    LOVERS.  Ill 

Need  I  ask  ?  and  ask  in  vain  ? 

My  story  will  itself  explain, 

For  ne'er  a  hero  was  renown'd, 

For  whom  a  match  could  not  be  found, 

And  every  king  who  has  arose, 

Has  had  his  subjects  and  his  foes  ; 

And  whether  peaceful  or  at  war, 

Every  nation,  near  and  far, 

Recorded  in  the  book  of  Time, 

Has  had  its  rise  and  its  decline. 

So  beauties,  measures  have,  and  bounds, 

And  to  themselves  return  their  wounds  ; 

However  full  of  charms  to  day, 

To-morrow  blights  them  with  decay, 

And  they  are  left  to  grieve  and  mourn, 

For  selves  of  all  allurements  shorne, 

For  hearts  they  've  sought,  yet  still  unwon, 

For  deeds  they  've  plan'd,  yet  still  undone  ; 

And  torments  rankle  deep  within, 

Such  as  are  left  in  tracks  of  sin. 

But  why  attempt  I  to  relate, 

What  fortune  has  assigned  to  fate  ? 

Nature  and  reason  both  infer 

That  such  things  will,  and  must  occur. 

Then  to  my  story  :  This  fair  maid, 
With  such  bewitching  charms  array'd, 
Admirers  drew  from  every  side, 
On  whom  she  look'd  with  conscious  pride  ; 
And  'monsr  the  multitude  there  came 


112  THE    THREE    LOVERS. 

A  noble  youth,  a  stately  swain, 
With  manners  polish'd  and  refin'd, 
Wi  h  grateful  heart  and  gen'rous  mind, 
And  looks,  that  told  beyond  control, 
The  inner,  was  a  noble  soul. 

And  need  I  say  that  long  they  strove 
Before  they  both  fell  deep  in  love  ? 
Ah,  no  ;  and  then  what  glances  sly 
Were  re-exchanged  from  eye  to  eye, 
With  such  warm  assiduous  dart, 
That  struck  like  daggers  to  the  heart, 
Waking  feelings  strange  and  wild, 
Restless,  vain,  unreconcird , 
Thrilling  sweet  and  transient  pain, 
Arises,  now,  then  sinks  again. 
Such  as  no  creature  can  surmise, 
Save  him  whom  trial  makes  more  wise. 

But  these  appear  to  me  most  strange 
That  real  things  should  prove  so  vain  ; 
And  love  express'd  by  vows  and  sighs, 
Though  real,  often  prove  but  lies  ; 
For  Cupid's  sly  and  quiv'ring  dart 
Too  often  wounds  the  fickle  heart, 
Time  draws  the  shaft  with  little  pain, 
And  the  small  scar  bears  friendship's  name. 

But  ere  I  wander  from  my  theme 
Let  me  picture  one  fair  scene, 


THE  THREE   LOVERS.  113 

The  meeting,  where  these  two  disclos'd 
Each  warm  emotion,  which  repos'd 
In  either  breast,  by  love  entwin'd  — 
Our  hero's,  and  our  heroine's. 

And  now  conceive,  you  lovers  fair, 

Seated  alone  this  lovely  pair ; 

First,  one  warm  glance  from  eye  to  eye, 

Wakes  in  each  breast  a  heart  heav'd  sigh  ; 

When  soon  our  nero  thus  began  : 

"  I  swear  by  all  that  mortal  man 

Has  ever  dared  to  swear   before, 

That  you  I  love  and  do  adore 

Above  all  others  'neath  the  sun, 

That  I  have  seen  since  life  begun  ; 

And  if  your  breast  with  such  could  burn 

For  me,  or  give  a  warm  return, 

A  happier  creature,  never  trod 

This  little  footstool  of  our  God  ; 

But  if  I  'm  doom'd  to  meet  your  scorn, 

The  worll  will  prove  as  quite  forlorn." 

"  O,  cast  aside  all  fear,"  said  she, 
"  I  've  ever  loved  and  cherished  thee  ; 
It  has  been  mine,  to  much  admire 
Your  many  gifts  and  neat  attire  ; 
And  mix'd  therewith  was  a  strange  fire 
I  strove  to  quench  —  yet  all  in  vain  ; 
I  could  not  stop  the  rising  flame 
That  shed  a  hallow'd  light  on  you 
And  made  you  perfect ;   false  or  true. 
H      5* 


THE   THREE    LOVERS. 

If  false,  to  every  joy,  adieu  ; 
But,  O,  I  pray  thee,  prove  thee  true, 
And  Venus  grant  one  boon  to  give, 
That  we  may  for  each  other  live." 

These  two  each  other,  thus  address'd 
And  thus,  their  feelings  warm  express'd. 
But  this  brings  up  the  question,  Why 
Such  vows  as  these  should  speak  the  lie  ? 

But  Fortune  has  such  fate  assign 'd 
Oft  to  the  lot  of  human  kind, 
And  oft  like  rainbows,  pleasures  smile 
Upon  the  storm,  dark,  deep  and  wild  ! 
And  oft  when  hope  sweet  joys  reveals, 
Fortune  adversely  rolls  her  wheels, 
And  disappointments  bring  instead, 
To  sigh  in  sorrow  'round  our  heads  ; 
Such  was  the  fate  of  this  fam'd  pair, 
And  such,  their  castles,  built  in  air. 

A  youth,  whose  time  had  much  been  spent, 
(Whose  object  was  by  effort  bent), 
To  learn  to  judge  the  heart  and  mind, 
By  looks  and  actions  of  mankind, 
This  beauty  saw,  and  with  surprise 
Read  the  rich  language  of  her  eyes  ; 
And  through  her  mien  and  manners  stole 
Into  the  secrets  of  her  soul ; 
And  while  she  yet  was  unaware, 
Read  her  true  disposition  there  ; 


THE   THREE   LOVERS.  115 

Then  her  approach'd  and  calmly  said  : 

"  There's  something  rests  in  thee,  fair  maid, 

That  warms  my  breast  with  that  strange  fire 

Which  bids  my  unpledged  heart  admire. 

Say,  could  I  place  my  hopes  in  thee 

If  such  should  prove  sincerity  ?  " 

"  There's  room  for  hope,"  the  maid  replied, 
Then  warmly  press'd  his  hand,  and  sighed  ; 
"With  the  same  feeling  I  Ve  admir'd 
Your  graceful  ways  and  mien  retir'd. 
And  now  to  learn  that  I'm  your  choice, 
Have  I  not  reason  to  rejoice  ? " 

To  this  the  youth  gave  no  reply, 
But  deeper  read  in  her  dark  eye 
A  disposition  stranger  still, 
A  stranger  mind,  and  stranger  will, 
Than  he  had  thought  her  to  possess, 
By  first  appearance  and  address. 

Amazed  he  was  indeed  to  find 

Such  vanity  and  sense  combined  ; 

But  she,  alike  possessed  the  art 

By  looks  to  judge  the  human  heart ; 

And  with  one  scrutinizing  gaze, 

Saw  his  deep  thoughts  ;  and  in  a  maze 

Most  wildly  cast  herself  away, 

Exclaiming  thus  in  wild  dismay  : 

' '  Begone  !  begone  !  thou  critic,  muse, 

Do  not  my  heart  and  mind  peruse  ; 


116  THE   THREE    LOVERS. 

I  might  have  known  your  wondrous  skill 
By  acts  to  judge  the  inward  will, 
When  I  first  saw  your  searching  eye, 
That  seemed  to  pierce  each  mystery." 

To  which  the  muse  thus  soon  replied  : 
"  In  nature's  walks  extended  wide, 
Of  human  haunts,  of  pomp  and  pride, 
Though  nearly  all  are  somewhat  vain, 
Yet  vanities,  by  you  contain'd, 
Surpass  all  others  of  the  kind 
That  I  have  yet  been  led  to  find. 
It  gives  me  grief  and  pain  to  see 
A  mind  so  rich  and  heart  so  free, 
Mix'd  with  that  vain,  inconstant  fire, 
That  lights  in  thee  such  strange  desire. 
Could  I  behold  your  motives  pure, 
Your  mind  could  fail  not  to  secure 
The  warm  applause  of  every  tongue, 
Of  both  the  aged  and  the  young." 

He  ceased,  and  both  in  silence  part, 
With  a  cold  bow  and  guarded  heart, 
And  from  appearance,  it  was  plain, 
Both  gave  it  up  as  a  bad  game. 

And  now,  this  muser,  and  this  youth 
Were  constant  friends,  and  in  all  truth 
Each  other's  welfare  ever  sought, 
Exchanging  sentiment  and  thought ; 
The  one,  excelled  in  'fairs  of  state, 
The  other,  judging  human  fate- 


THE   THREE    LOVERS.  117 

It  chanced,  soon  after,  as  'tis  known, 
That  these  two  heroes  met  alone, 
And  passing  first  a  lively  joke, 
The  latter,  thus  his  mind  bespoke  ; 
"  If  you  can  read  by  acts  and  mien 
The  human  heart  and  mind  unseen, 
Show  me  the  inner  soul  and  mind, 
And  disposition  of  what  kind, 
Of  her  with  whom  Miss  Rumor  says 
I  have  designed  to  spend  my  days." 

He  spake  and  him  inquiring  eyed, 
To  Avhich,  this  earnest  muse,  replied  : 
"A  stranger  one  I've  never  found 
In  all  community  around  ; 
A  mind  so  rich  and  nobly  train'd, 
A.ccomp'nied  with  a  heart  so  vain — 
The  one,  to  lofty  thoughts  aspires, 
The  other,  stoops  to  low  desires. 
Her  object  chief  has  ever  been 
To  captive  lead  the  hearts  of  men, 
And  to  accomplish  this,  her  time 
And  energies  are  spent,  to  find 
What  strings  control  the  heart  and  mind 
And  what,  our  strong  affections  bind. 
And  half  a  dozen  now  she  holds 
Beneath  her  potent  eye's  control ; 
And  I  myself,  (though  you  may  smile,) 
Scarcely  escaped  her  artful  wiles, 
So  cunning  laid  the  secret  snare, 
I  was  entrapped,  although  aware  ! 


118  THE   THREE   LOVERS. 

And  now  to  put  men's  hearts  in  plight 
Is  her  chief  object  and  delight ; 
This,  her  main  study  and  her  aim, 
And  in  her  toils  is  costly  game." 

"Is  that  so?"  replied  the  youth  ; 

"  And  does  she  pride  herself,  in  truth, 

To  captive  lead  men's  hearts  astray, 

And  the  fine  feelings  thus  betray, 

By  flattering  words  and  winning  wiles, 

And  mellow  looks  and  artful  smiles  ?•" 

"  'Tis  even  so,"  the  muse  replied  ; 
"And  there  are  two  who  have  been  tried, 
And  with  their  confidence  betray'd, 
The  same  as  you  look  on  that  maid  ; 
Each  thinks  himself  her  only  trust, 
But  soon  each  suit  will  be  nonpross'd." 

He  pointed  him  to  two  young  men 
Who  then  was  fast  approaching  them, 
And  who  came  up,  and  thus  began  : 
"  What  is  the  counsel,  what  the  plan, 
In  which  you  seem  so  much  engross'd, 
As  though  your  all,  was  won,  or  lost  ? " 

"  'Tis  something,  sirs,  of  deep  concern," 
Responds  the  muse,  "as  you  will  learn, 
And  something,  too,  concerning  thee  — 
And  him —  and  him,  to  plainer  be  — 
But,  let  me  hold,  I  am  too  free, 


THE    THREE    LOVERS.  119 

You've  sought  no  counselor  in  me." 

u  Speak  on,  speak  on  ;  stop,  stop  not  here  ; 

Proceed  —  we  anxious  wait  to  hear. " 

"  Then  if  I  must,  I  say,  '  Beware  ! ' 
Yon  three  are  in  the  self-same  snare ; 
The  which  has  artfully  been  laid, 
By  the  designs  of  one  fair  maid  ; 
And  blindly  now  you're  led  along, 
All  unmistrustful  of  the  wrong  ; 
But  now  at  once  unveil  your  eyes, 
And  view  her  projects  and  be  wise, 
Alike  this  mystery  unfold  ; 
Be  wide  awake,  precise  and  bold, 
And  just  accomplish,  this  intent, 
To  give  as  good,  as  has  been  sent." 

"Indeed  !  "  one  of  these  two  replies, 

"  Let  not  these  useless  rumors  rise  ; 

The  story  is  already  told, 

And  I  will  not  my  claim  withhold  ; 

By  me  her  heart  alone  is  rul'd, 

And  you  have  been  completely  fool'd. 

And  would  I  lose  so  rich  a  prize 

Because  she's  chanc'd  to  fool  the  wise  ? 

Nay,  on  this  charmer  I  rely, 

And  your  endeavors  I  defy  ; 

My  part  and  lot  are  fixed  and  sure, 

And  she  in  me  now  rests  secure. 

One  week  from  yesterday,  you'll  see, 

We're  married  at  the  hour  of  three, 


120  THE   THREE   LOVERS. 

And  she  becomes  the  loving  bride  —  " 
The  other,  interrupting,  cried, 
Excitedly,  "  Hold  !  hold,  I  pray  ! 
One  week  from  yesterday,  you  say  ?  — 
In  fact  upon  that  self-same  day 
I'm  pledged  to  give  my  heart  and  hand 
With  her's  in  Hymen's  holy  band  ; 
And  I'm  in  preference,  too,  to  you, 
For  my  appointments  stands  at  two." 

"By  heaven  !  "  our  youth  in  wrath  exclaim'd, 

"  By  such  presumption  what  is  gain'd  ? 

['11  have  revenge  ;  cursed  be  the  charm, 

That,  with  a  vain,  yet  potent  arm, 

My  feelings  captive  led  astray, 

And  them  to  mock'ry  made  a  prey  ; 

For  on  that  day  A.  M.  at  nine, 

She  has  vowed  she  would  be  mine  ; 

And  though  my  hour  is  first  of  all, 

Yet  acts  like  these  my  heart  appall. 

Yes,  I've  admired  her  charming  face, 

With  a  thousand  beauties  graced, 

But  sacred  things  thus  sacrificed, 

By  me  as  deeply  are  despised  ; 

My  injured  feelings  ever  proud, 

Call  for  vengeance,  long  and  loud." 

"And  so  do  mine,"  the  one  replies  ; 
"My  heart  is  full,  and  blind  my  eyes 
For  sighs  that  burden  every  breath, 
And  tears  that  burn  my  soul  to  death." 


THE   THREE   LOVERS.  121 

"  We  seek  revenge  !  "  the  three  exclaim, 
"And  heaven  aid  us  in  our  aim  !  " 

To  which,  the  muse  :  u  Attention  lend, 
And  hear  the  counsel  of  a  friend. 
If  for  revenge  your  bosoms  burn, 
Contentions,  strife  forever  spurn  ; 
But  on  th'  appointed  nuptial  day, 
Throw  all  your  promises  away, 
And  go  not  near  this  artful  maid, 
And  she  will  be  redoubly  paid, 
And  in  repentance  ever  sigh, 
That  heartless,  thus  she  vow'd  the  lie." 

"  Agreed  !  agreed  !  "  they  all  respond, 
Politely  bow,  and  then  are  gone. 

Old  Time  still  swiftly  rolling  on, 
The  promised  nuptial  morning  dawn'd  ; 
The  hours  passed  by,  but  no  one  came 
To  meet  this  beauty,  wise  and  vain  ; 
Long  she  look'd,  but  look'd  in  vain. 
Again  the  day  in  sober  vest 
Sank  her  bright  chariot  in  the  west, 
And  Evening  spread  abroad  on  high 
Her  star-bespangled  azure  sky. 
The  night  wore  on,  inviting  sleep 
To  those,  who  nature's  vigil's  keep  ; 
This  maid  retired,  but  far  from  rest  — 
A  thousand  cares  distract  her  breast, 
And  judged  too  truly,  I  may  say, 


122  WHERE    SHALL   WE    FIND    REPOSE  ? 

Why  they  were  absent  on  that  day. 
And  the  next  morning,  felt  aware 
That  all  her  projects  were  left  bare, 
And  sick'ning,  too,  to  find  it  so, 
Left  the  city,  you  may  know, 
To  visit  with  some  country  friends, 
And  to  her  health  thus  make  amends, 
By  breathing  fresh  and  purer  air, 
But  none  again  beheld  her  there. 


WHERE  SHALL  WE  FIND  EEPOSE? 

AN  ACROSTIC. 

Where  shall  we  mortals  find  repose  from  weary  cares 
Amid  this  toilsome  life,  beset  with  hidden  snares  ? 
Sad  disappointments  rise,  which  burst  in  fearful  wrath, 
High-handed,  henious  wrongs,  thread  thick  our   every 

path  ; 

In  every  bud  of  hope  lurks  many  a  secret  thorn, 
No  rosy  days  of  promise  dawn,  secure  from  storm, 
Gilded  all  by  the  sunshine  from  our  youth,  appears 
The  all-inspiring  prospect  of  our  future  years. 
"On  flowery  beds  of  ease,"  the  path  seems  stretch 'd 

away, 
Nor  bud,  nor  leaf,  nor  bloom,  seems  blighted  with  decay. 


WHERE   SHALL  WE   FIND   REPOSE  ?  123 

All  over  and  around  are  seeming  joys  and  new, 
Lo,  how  "  the  distance  lends  enchantments  to  the  view." 
Vested  with  seeming  joys  is  the  prospective  way  ; 
Onward  it  seems  to  lead  up  to  the  gates  of  day, 
Renew'd  with  healthful  life  without  decay, 
Delightful  hopes  and  prospects,  making  all  things  gay. 

Enter  upon  the  field  —  and,  lo  !  how  changed  the  scene! 
Now  Disappointments  frown  where  smiled  our  fondest 

dream  ; 
Great  frozen  drops  of  grief,   in  storms,  come  rattling 

down 

Least  when  expected  —  vivid  lightning  leaps  around, 
Even  fair  Hope  looks  frightened,  falling  to  the  ground. 

Almighty  God,  amid  such  scenes  we  live  and  die  — 
Unto  Thy  arms  of  love  for  safety  we  must  fly  ; 
To  these,  all  helpless,  worn  and  wearied,  Lord,  we  come, 
Humbled  and  bleeding  ;  from  these  storms  receive  us 

home  — 

On  Thy  bless'd  promises  confidingly  we  lean, 
Resting  assured  in  faith  —  and  here  we  fondly  dream 


124  MYSTERY   OF  MYSTERIES. 


MYSTERY  OF  MYSTERIES. 


"  There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  women. 

Which,  taken  at  its  flood,  leads  "  — God  knows  where; 
Those  navigators  must  be  able  seamen 

Whose  charts  lay  down  its  currents  to  a  hair  ; 
Not  all  the  reverses  of  Jacob  Beaman 

With  their  strange  whirls  and  eddies  can  compare  ; 
Men,  with  their  heads,  reflect  on  this  and  that, 

But  women,  with  their  hearts,  on — heaven  knows  what  ! 

—  BYUON. 

Could  Fancy,  endued  with  a  wonderful  art, 

By  culture  enrich'd  and  refined, 
Depict  half  the  queries  of  a  frail  woman's  heart, 

What  a  gem  it  would  be  to  the  mind  ! 

Every  poet  and  sage  howe'er  gifted  and  bright, 

Has  confessed  how  vain  is  his  skill 
To  imagine,  much  less  than  unfold  to  the  light, 

One  tenth  of  a  feminine  will. 


And  perhaps  it  is  well,  for  could  man  with  a  glance 

Survey  the  dark  mystery  within, 

With  rock  and  iceberg-bound  shores,  where  wild  fairies 
dance 

On  steeps  that  would  make  the  brain  swim  ; 


MYSTERY   OF   MYSTERIES.  125 

Where  shrill  shriek    the  cold  winds,  and  loud  clamors 
the  crow, 

Or  pierces  a  keen,  biting  frost, 
Or  a  storm  in  the  heavens  —  of  what  who  can  know  ? 

There  darkens,  till  hope's  light  is  lost ; 

Where  the  breezes  of  summer,  most  gentle  and  fair, 

Which  blossom  the  roses  of  hope, 
May  turn  northward  so  quick  as  to  snap  off  a  hair, 

And  winter,  wild  winter,  have  scope. 

I  say,  could  man  with  a  glance  these  dangers  foresee, 
Think  you  he  would  trust  his  life's  barque 

On  such  a  wild  sea  of  chance  and  of  changes,  lest  he 
Should  be  fed  to  a  monster  mouth'd  shark ; 

And  the  merciless  queen  of  this  sea,  and  his  all, 
Deem  the  meal  for  the  pet  of  her  bosom  too  small, 
And  since  his  pains  and  his  pleasures  to  her  are  but  play, 
She  would  serve  up  another  —  in  about  the  same  way; 
Or  first  warm  him,  then  freeze  him,  then  tear  out  his 

heart 

To  make  out  a  meal  for  this  monster,  her  art, 
To  which  every  thing  else  in  her  bosom  refin'd, 
Must  bow  and  be  sacrificed  of  soul  and  of  mind. 

But,  hold  on  here,  let's  see,  this  last  stanza  don't  chime  ; 
But  where  tunes  change  so  much,  I  might  as  well  change 
,,  my  rhyme, 

For  my  subject 's  a  queer  one,  ever  veering  in  course, 
And  constantly  changing,  or  something  that's  worse, 
And  if  you  would  follow  its  circuitous  route, 


126  MYSTERY  OF   MYSTERIES. 

And  not  go  astray,  keep  on  a  constant  lookout  — 
For  brambles,  for  hedges,  for  deep  marshes  and  ditches, 
For  all  these  you  will  find  in  the  breast  of  these  witches, 
These  sweet  angels,  with  bright  eyes,  smooth  tongues, 

and  fair  faces, 

Each  adorned  with  a  thousand  and  one  gentle  graces; 
When  you  think  all  is  fair,  to  bother  and  vex  you, 
First,  your  feet  to  ensnare,  and  after,  perplex  you. 

But  there  are,  it  is  said  (in  woman's  affections), 
Fields,  landscapes  and  gardens  of  fairest  complexion, 
Where  Constancy  blooms,  and  pure  virtue  and  truth 
Wear  always  the  smiles  of  perpetual  youth  ; 
And  some,  I've  heard  talk  of,  who  have  even  found  them, 
But  as  to  myself  and  some  others,  astound  them  ! 
We  have  searched,  but,  alas  !  have  gone  all  around  them; 
And  close  on  the  border,  plucked  promises  given, 
Fair  blossoms  indeed  !  which  bore  semblance  of  heaven, 
And  as  onward  we  hurried,  more  fair  grew  the  way  ; 
Every  blossom  we  gathered,  adorn'd  a  bouquet. 
A  bright,  lovely  form  ever  gliding  before  us, 
Inviting  us  on,  whispered,   "  Heaven  is  o'er  us"  ; 
But  while  thinking  of  nothing  but  pleasures  and  posies, 
All  at  once  we  are  swamp'd,  in  the  mud,  to  our  noses. 
The  lightness  and  smiles  of  that  bright,  lovely  form 
Are  changed  into  frowns,  and  soul- writhing  scorns ; 
Their  mistress  looks  sad,  and  sighs,  sheds  crocodile  tears, 
Says,  "Farewell  forever,"  and  then  disappears. 

Our  cherished  bouquets  are  all  withered  and  black  ; 
We  can  not  proceed,  nor  can  we  turn  back  — 


MYSTERY   OF  MYSTERIES.  127 

Giiaw'd  are  our  faces,  with  gnats  and  with  fleas, 

And  stung  is  our  flesh,  with  hornets  and  bees  ; 

And,  when  we  try  to  brush  off,  these  saucy  intruders, 

We  find,  our  hands  have  been  tied,  by  these  fair  deluders. 

And  though  each  one  may  say,  u  I'm  sorry  it  is  so," 

Yet  she  rejoices  in  heart  (believe  me)  to  know 

That  to  her  suitors'  long  list,  she's  added  a  beau. 

But  what  is  most  strange,  is,  how  women  can  change 

For  what  —  no  mortal  can  guess  ; 
For  sense,  looks,  or  purse,  it  is  always  for  worse, 

Which,  in  time,  she  is  forced  to  confess. 

Why  one  can  not  please,  where  th'  other 's  at  ease 

Their  fondest  affection  to  revel  in, 
No  one  can  conceive,  save  they  've  not  the  right  squeeze, 

Or  have  not  a  big-enough-devil-in. 

Or  they  lack  in  a  chat,  or,  some  small  this  or  that, 

Too  trifling  for  one  to  conjecture  ; 
And  why  puzzle  my  brain,  at  mosquitoes  to  strain, 

Which  to  number,  would  take  a  week's  lecture. 

But  such  trivial  things  oft  misery  bring 

To  both  the  firm  man  and  false  lady  ; 
And  wild  sparks  of  desire  may  kindle  a  fire, 

That,  after,  can  not  be  kept  shady. 

But  thrown  on  the  straw  of  our  Natures  so  raw, 

That  now  for  ignition  is  ripe, 
There  bursts  a  wild  flame  which  Reason  can't  tame, 

Nor  th'  waters  of  will  can  requite. 


128  MYSTERY   OF  MYSTERIES. 

I  once  had  a  cousin,  some  ten  and  a  dozen 

Years  old  —  a  very  smart  young  man, 
Of  true  moral  tone,  and  a  mind,  too,  that  shone 

With  brightness  most  brilliant  and  grand. 

But  coz  had  my  fault  (which  doth  seldom  exalt 

One's  self  in  the  eyes  of  the  fair), 
To  want,  as  'tis  sung,  a  right  voluble  tongue, 
{    As  well  as  a  jocular  air. 

Everlasting  affection  had  some  strange  connection 

With  his  every  feeling  and  thought, 
And  he  deemed  that  mankind,  such  affection  would  find. 

Each  one  for  himself,  if  he  sought. 

Need  I  say  that  he  paid  his  whole  heart  to  a  maid 

Who  was  judged  a  quite  worthy  she  ? 
That  'neath  heaven  above,  both  had  plighted  their  love, 

And  sworn  each  the  other's  to  be  ? 

For  their  vows  had  been  given  in  sight  of  high  heaven, 

And  each  had  exchanged  a  fond  token, 
That  if  false  they  should  prove,  in  word,  look  or  love, 

Their  joys,  like  their  vows,  might  be  broken. 

But  what  are  such  vows  in  fair  ladies'  mouths  ? 

A  week,  or  a  day,  may  outlive  them, 
And  when  broken,  the  deuce  is,  they  have  their  excuses, 

And  we  are  inclined  to  forgive  them 


MYSTERY   OF   MYSTERIES.  129 

Well,  my  coz,  like  a  fool,  sent  his  girl  off  to  school, 

Some  sixty  or  more  miles'  from  home, 
Her  heart  to  refine  and  enlighten  her  mind, 

Not  dreaming  that  either  might  roam. 

And  there  you  may  know  ('tis  quite  often  so),  she  found 
a  gay  beau, 

Far  gayer  than  cousin  could  be, 
But  their  minds  would  compare  as  a  rope  and  a  hair, 

And  this  beau's  was  the  hair,  as  it  should  be. 

But  then  he  could  bow,  and  could  flatter  and  vow, 

With  words  gently  spoken,  and  smile 
So  softly  —  what  sin  !     Coz  ne'er  could  begin 

To  practice  such  heart-winning  wile. 

He  could  joke,  and  could  sigh,  and  could  glance  with 

the  eye, 

Conduct  himself  easy  and  neatly, 
And  besides,  now  and  then,  he  would  speak  -her  name, 

"  Gen," 
So  warmly,  so  mildly,  and  sweetly  ! 

What  could  she  !  Heaven  above  !  —  then  fall  square  in 
love 

With  him  who  could  fondle  and  flatter, 
Though  she  very  well  knew,  cous  ever  was  true, 

And  deeply  would  grieve  —  yet — no  matter. 

Time  rolling  onward,  the  maid  returned  homeward, 
I  think,  at  the  end  of  a  year, 
I 


130  MYSTERY   OF  MYSTERIES. 

But  me  !   how  much  changed  !  her  heart  how  estranged 
From  the  one  she  once  cherish'd  so  dear. 

She  meets  him  quite  boldly,  and  thus  she  says  (coldly)  : 
"I  thank  you  for  favors  you've  shown  me, 

But  God  knows  above  thee,  I  never  can  love  thee, 
And  you  are  too  worthy  to  own  me. " 

Such  words  rashly  spoken,  when  such  vows  are  broken, 
strange  feelings  betoken  ; 

Poor  coz  !  how  it  swoon'd  his  whole  life, 
For  one  woman's  folly,  he  became  melancholy, 

And  she,  a  most  miserable  wife. 

Such  as  these  are  but  few  of  the  follies  we  view 
In  woman's  frail  breast ;  some  of  these  never  rest 

For  a  heart,  or  hearts,  true,  be  they  many  or  few 
But  ever  seek  new,  for  others  to?sue  ; 

And  whose  proudest  hour  is,  when  they  feel  they  have 

power 

To  heal  or  to  wound  the  fools  they  have  found  — 
All  the  world  could  not  fill  such  a  vain,  restless  will. 

I  once  knew  a  beauty,  who  had  great  sense  of  duty, 

And  would  frequently  talk  about  how  we  should  walk  ; 

Dear  soul,  I  can't  say  in  what  sacred  way 

She  guided  her  feet  —  she  spurned  all  deceit, 

And  never  would  cheat,  or  one  wrongly  treat  ; 

At  least  she  said  so,  and  of  course  she  would  know  ; 

And  then  who  would  break,  or  a  vow  falsely  make, 


MYSTERY    OF   MYSTERIES.  131 

Or  deceive  one's  affection,  had  a  soul,  whose  complexion 
Was  too  biack  for  inspection,  and  deserved  deep  dejection. 
She  could  boast  of  eleven,  who  had  sworn  before  heaven 
That  their  hearts  she  had  won,  and  were  ever  undone, 
Save  from  her,  they  the  same,  at  the  altar  could  claim  ; 
Which  to  none  she  could  give  —  each  vovv'd  while  he 

lived 
(All  hope  being  fled)  none  one  else  would  he  wed. 

But  what  grieved  her  ?     Even  now  some  had  broken  that 

vow 
And  deceived  her  —  all  were  married  save  two.     Why 

should  they  so  do  ? 
Since  such  vows  were  broken,  she  'd  no  faith  in  love's 

token. 

And  I  presume  now  to  say,  that  each  year,  if  not  day, 
Brings  her  cardiac  wealth  —  mine   no   doubt  was   the 

twelfth, 

And  since  she  's  made  out  (I've  heard  'round  about 
By  the  way  of  a  cousin)  a  full  beggar's  dozen. 

MORAL. 

To  such  we  would  say  :  "  All  beauties  decay, 
Youth  hastens  away,  O  make  no  delay, 
But  at  the  next  offer,  whoever  may  proffer  ; 
(At  least  if  he  be  quite  worthy  of  thee, 
And  such  you  will  find,  ten  times  out  of  nine,) 
Give  your  heart,  if  you  can,  and  with  it  your  hand,' 
And  not  ever  be  thinking  with  glee,  "there  are  fish  in 
the  sea 


132  MYSTERY   OF  MYSTERIES. 

Far  better  than  he,  and  why  not  for  me  ?  " 

Time  very  soon,  for  your  roses  in  bloom,  will  cradle  a 

tomb, 

And  then  you  may  wait,  and  sweeten  your  bait. 
And  smiling,  invite,  none  hardly  will  bite, 
And  vain  you  will  wish  to  take  in  that  fish, 
By  hook,  spear,  or  net ;  but  that  fish  you  can't  get ; 
Till  tired,  at  length,  and  exhausted  your  strength, 
You  will  take  in  an  eel,  all  slippery  to  feel, 
And  snaky  in  form,  concluding  "  'tis  vain  to  fish  in  a 

storm. " 


RETURN   TO   THE    SCENES   OF   ACADEMIC   DAYS.        133 


LINES  WRITTEN  ON  A  RETURN  OF  THE 
THOR   TO  THE  SCENES  OF  HIS  ACADEMIC 
DAYS. 


I  returned  to  the  scenes  of  Old  Alfred  once  more, 

And  greeted  the  young  and  the  fair, 
Who  had  travers'd  those  halls  with  me  oft  before  — 

But,  Sarah  —  no  Sarah  was  there. 

As  I  gazed  on  the  throng  there  assembled  at  morn, 

Familiarly  some  seemed  to  smile, 
But  at  home,  in  my  bosom,  the  whole  seemed  forlorn, 

For  Sarah  was  absent  the  while. 

And  I  thought  yet  while  gazing,  "Oh,  where  is  that 
face 

On  which  these,  mine  eyes,  lov'd  to  dwell  " 
I  looked  down  in  my  heart  —  I  discovered  its  trace 

Inscribed  there  too  deep  and  too  well. 

But  now  Sarah  is  gone,  and  within  my  lone  breast 

Her  image  but  causes  a  pain, 
Though  in  all  its  perfection,  it  can  but  distress 

To  think  that  we  meet  not  again. 

But  although,  cherished  girl,  we  shall  meet  never  more, 
This  side  of  the  cold,  silent  grave, 


134      RETURN   TO   THE   SCENES  OF   ACADEMIC   DAYS. 

Though  another  must  shield  you,  I  can  but  adore  — 
To  feeling  and  you  be  a  slave. 

Our  spirits  immortal  communion  will  hold, 

Though  oceans  divide  you  and  me, 
And  deep  down  in  the  innermost  rooms  of  the  soul, 

Talk  over  the  things  that  might  be. 

But  how  strange  is  the  portion  of  all  human  kind  ! 

And  stranger  the  workings  of  soul, 
Our  afiections  the  strangest,  and  foolishly  blind, 

And  o'er  them  we  have  no  control. 

When  I  felt  in  my  bosom  your  increasing  claim, 

How  vainly  I  strove  to  allay ! 
But  my  every  endeavor  gave  fuel  to  flame, 

'Till  now  it  out-dazzles  the  day. 

The  sweet  sounds  of  your  voice  ir  my  mem'ry  still  live, 

Your  every  expression  is  there  ; 
If  I  now  could  erase  them  —  what  would  I  not  give  ! 

They  scourge  me  with  biting  despair. 

But,  adieu,  fond  deceiver  !     Farewell !  and  for  aye  — 

O  how  I  do  linger  around, 
And  still  cling  to  your  image,  which  keeps  me  at  bay, 

And  charms,  but  my  feelings  to  wound. 


LINES   WRITTEN   TO   WIFE.  135 


LINES  WRITTEN  TO  WIFE. 


Dear  companion,  our  love  was  not  of  romance, 
Or  of  fancy,  to  youth  so  often  a  dream  ; 

'Twas  not  born  of  a  sigh,  a  smile  or  a  glance, 

But  kindness  of  years  sheds  its  light  on  the  scene. 

The  trials  pf  life  have  swept  and  refined  it, 

And  cleansed   it  from  grossness,  and  passion's  wild 
flame, 

The  most  tender  ties  envelop  and  bind  it, 
A  volume,  too  sacred,  too  full  for  a  name. 

This  volume  none  others  but  we  care  to  read, 
To  us  every  line,  every  word,  is  most  dear, 

And  tells  to  us  each  what  the  other  doth  need, 
And  how  to  make  lighter  life's  burden  of  care. 


•6* 


We  are  journeying  on  together,  dear  wife, 
To  meet  high  resolves  and  responsible  claims, 

To  fill  the  demands  of  a  well  ordered  life, 
With  noble  resolves  and  far-reaching  aims. 

But  soon,  very  soon,  and  our  record  is  made, 

And  snapp'd  those  attachments  that  bind  you  and  me, 

For  soon  ruthless  Time,  with  his  merciless  blade, 
Will  cut  down,  of  blessings  Life's  thick-bearing  tree. 

6* 


136  A    DREAM. 

And  when  in  our  times  we  pass  o'er  the  river, 
May  our  feelings  be  one  on  that  blissful  shore, 

And  drinking  in  glory  from  the  hand  the  giver, 
Eternally  blessed,  may  we  love  evermore. 


A  DREAM. 


I  had  a  dream,  last  night,  so  strange  and  droll, 
It  left  a  deathless  impress  on  the  soul, 
And  made  me  wish,  though  wishing  I  did  weep, 
If  such  were  dreams,  that  life  were  all  a  sleep. 

Mcthought  this  aching  form  of  mine  was  dead, 
And  in  a  coffin  laid  ;  with  gentle  tread 
You  came  that  way,  and  knelt  beside  my  head, 
And  kissed  my  brow,  and,  weeping,  said  : 
"How  cold  !  Dear  Washington,  how  can  it  be, 
I  lov'd  you  not,  who  thus  could  die  for  me  ?  " 
And  then  you  sigh'd,  and  then  you  wept  anew, 
And  showers  of  tears,  clear  as  the  crystal  dew 
Shook  from  the  morning  rose,  fell  in  my  face  ; 
It  felt  them  not ;  for,  lock'd  in  Death's  embrace, 
Its  eyes  were  clos'd,  its  lips  forever  seal'd, 
And  icy  chains  that  now  still  heart  had  steel'd, 
Which  once  devotedly  had  beat  for  you, 
Through  every  change,  forever,  ever  true. 


A   DREAM.  137 

My  deathless  spirit,  all  unseen,  stood  by, 
And  gazed  into  your  anxious  mien  and  eye, 
And  wonder'd,  where  the  one  you  lov'd  could  be  ; 
I  looked  around,  but  none  such  could  I  see  — 
You  stood  alone  —  nothing  save  you  were  near  — 
Alone  you  sigh'd,  alone  let  drop  the  tear. 

Then  with  your  hand  you  press'd  those  cheeks  of  clay, 

Then,  with  a  cloth  of  snow,  you  wiped  away 

The  tears  that  you  upon  that  face  had  shed. 

And  then  again  you  stoop'd,  and  kiss'd  the  dead 

Thrice  o'er,  and  sigh'd,  u  Alas,  how  can  it  be  ? " 

My  soul  by  deep  compassion  mov'd  for  thee, 

Unfelt,  unseen,  now  clasp'd  your  long-loved  form, 

And  from  your  lips  a  thousand  kisses  warm 

I  snatch'd  in  eager  haste.     O,  sweets  untold  ! 

I  seem'd  to  drink  the  essence  of  your  soul, 

And  in  return  pour'd  floods  of  feeling  there, 

Which  serv'd  as  oil  to  sooth  the  waves  of  care 

That  surg'd  within  your  breast.     My  soul  met  thine, 

And  with  it  fondly,  sweetly  did  entwine  ; 

Pure  love  from  each  into  the  other  stole, 

Kach  soul  entwining,  and  soul  blessing  soul. 

Your  face  grew  tranquil,  more  than  usual  fair, 

And  sweet  Enjoyment  stamp'd  its  image  there. 

Methought,  "This. is  delight,  pure  bliss  we  share, 

An  answer  to  my  oft  repeted  prayer, 

That  you  might  love  me  with  pure  tenderness, 

And  it  be  ours  to  make  each  other  bless'd." 


138  A   DREAM. 


Lono-  while  in  mutual  love  our  souls  embrace  — 

O 

Bliss  fill'd  us  both,  and  in  your  tranquil  face 
Hung  out  its  banner  ;  and  I,  too,  could  see 
True  love's  inscription  written  there  for  me. 

At  length  your  absent  thoughts  came  wandering  home, 

And  Consciousness  again  resum'd  its  throne. 

Surpris'd,  you  started  —  first,  your  lips  met  those 

That  now  in  death  had  found  their  last  repose  ; 

And  then,  as  though  the  angels  had  approv'd, 

(So  soft,  so  light,  so  silently,  you  mov'd,) 

You  hurried  from  the  spot.     My  spirit  free, 

Could  nothing  else,  but  watch  and  follow  thee. 

You,  swiftly  walking,  dash'd  the  crystal  dew, 

From  off  the  grass  that  in  your  pathway  grew, 

While  every  drop  appear'd  a  jewel  true, 

Shook  from  your  feet,  which,  falling,  'round  you  threw 

A  rainbow  in  its  bright  and  varied  hue. 

At  length  you  to  a  beaut'ous  garden  came, 
Where  flowers  grew  of  every  sort  and  name  ; 
In  perfect  taste  and  elegance  array 'd, 
It  seem'd  an  Eden,  you,  the  Eve-like  maid  ; 
And  could  such  fragrance  earth  afford  as  there 
Went  up,  with  sweets  embalmiag  all  the  air? 

You  looked  about  with  well  observing  powers, 
Then  pluck'd  from  choicest  beds,  the  choicest  flowers; 
And  with  those  fingers  I  once  fondly  press'd, 
You  wove  them  into  wreaths  with  myrtle  dress'd 
In  that  exquisite  taste  that  first  for  you 


A  DREAM.  139 

My  close  attention,  then,  affection  drew  ; 

That  deep  affection,  nature  gave  to  me, 

Which,  unrequited,  proved  my  misery, 

And  led  me  down  to  death  ;  and  then  retrac'd 

Your  steps,  to  where  your  lips,  cold  lips  embrac'd  — 

And  there,  upon  that  shrouded  bosom —  aye, 

Upon  that  breast  that  once  for  you  did  pray, 

Where  changeless  love  had  held  its  potent  sway, 

And  ruled  my  thoughts  and  feelings  night  and  day, 

Till  it  became  a  lifeless  clod  of  clay, — 

This  wreath  of  flowers  in  tenderness  you  lay, 

And  then  this  blessing  breath'd  :  "Sweet  be  thy  rest, 

Sweet  as  these  flowers,  which  now  adorn  thy  breast, 

As  pure  and  bright,  thy  spirit  ever  be, 

Dear  Washington,  and  soon,  I  follow  thee. " 

And  now  the  tear  stood,  trembling  in  your  eye, 
Your  gaze  was  fix'd  upon  the  deep  blue  sky 
As  if  beholding  angels  there,  and  I 
Could  hear  your  happy  spirit  sweetly  sigh  — 
See  it  departing,  in  your  heavenly  mien  ; 
When  I  awoke  to  sorrow,  from  a  dream. 


140  A   MISCELLANY, 


A  MISCELLANY. 


As  when  the  rosy  hand  of  morning  light 

Unfolds  the  curtain  of  a  summer  night, 

And  golden  clouds  float  in  the  liquid  blue, 

As  guardian  spirits,  weeping  crystal  dew  ; 

And  ocean,  lake,  and  land,  and  flowery  isles, 

Lay  half  reveal'd,  half  hidden  in  her  smiles; 

And  every  thing  that  doth  these  scenes  adorn, 

Reflects  the  image  of  the  queen  of  morn  ; 

When  busy  life,  awakened,  reappears, 

And  singing  birds  chime  music  in  our  ears, 

And  we,  rejoiced,  to  see  the  daylight  flow, 

Go  forth  to  drink  at  pleasure's  font  "below  ; 

So  you,  with  no  less  rosy  hand,  sweet  girl, 

Drew  back  the  curtain  from  my  future  world; 

Bade  golden  clouds  of  promise,  hope  and  love, 

As  guardian  spirits  hover  from  above  ; 

And  seas  of  beauty,  deck'd  with  blooming  isles, 

Spread  out  in  future,  basking  in  your  smiles; 

Bade  Pleasure's  flowers  my  fields  and  walks  adorn, 

With  breathing  beauties,  brightened  by  your  form; 

Kindled  anew  the  light  of  life  in  me, 

My  bosom  bird  bade  sing  a  song  of  glee, 

To  find  his  mate,  he  thought  forever  flown, 

Again  return'd  to  call  herself  his  own  ; 

And  I,  rejoic'd  —  not  by  the  morn-lit  skies, 

But  looks  of  love,  fresh  beaming  from  your  eyes. 


A   LETTER   OF   EARLY   MANHOOD.  141 


A  LETTER  OF  EARLY  MANHOOD 

IN   ACADEMIC     DAYS     TO     A     LADY    WHO   WAS     ABOUT     TO 
GRADUATE   IN   THE   SAME    CLASS    WITH   THE   AUTHOR. 


I  snatch  a  moment  from  life's  crowded  tide, 
To  show  a  secret  which  this  bosom  hides, 
To  you,  the  authoress;   and  who  doth  share 
In  me  an  interest,  I  now  declare. 

Within  the  inmost  recess  of  my  soul 
There  is  a  secret  place,  which  thou  dost  hold ; 
And  though  the  storms  of  life  do  war  around, 
Yet  still  within,  your  image  fix'd  is  found. 
By  it  most  strange  emotions  I  am  taught  — 
It  rides  reflected  on  each  rising  thought, 
Is  mirror'd  and  remirror'd  in  a  thousand  ways, 
And  each  reflection  whispers  forth  your  praise. 

And  while    thou  art  within  this  inner  man 

So  sacredly  enshrined  —  the  thought,  "  How  c:in, 

How  can  I  dissemble  it  from  thee," 

Time  after  time  intrudes  itself  on  me. 

The  more  I  strive,  and  longer  to  conceal, 

The  more  alive,  and  stronger  the  appeal, 

Till  tired  of  war,  I  yield  to  its  control, 

And  show  to  you,  your  image  in  my  soul ; 


142  A   LETTER   OF   EARLY   MANHOOD. 

And  while  you  view,  clear  girl,  O  gently  deal  - 
Life's  strings  are  here,  life's  destiny  you  seal. 

I  leave  these  scienced  halls  and  valleys  green, 
And  rugged  mountain  sides  for  other  scenes  ; 
You,  too,  to  still  more  distant  lands  will  go, 
To  where  the  briny  waves  of  ocean  flow  ; 
And  shall  we  ever  meet  again,  or  no  ? 

O,  in  some  simple,  full-of-meaning  way, 
In  your  reply  to  this,  say  that  we  may  ; 
And  it  be  heaven's,  to  lend  its  aid  to  thee, 
And  thine,  to  build  a  lively  hope  in  me. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUFG  MAN.        143 


LINES  WRITTEN   ON   THE    DEATH    OF    A 
YOUNG  MAN, 

DIED   WHILE     IN     THE     ARMY     OF    THE     UPPER    POTOMAC, 
FEBRUARY   22,  A.    D.    1862. 

Silent  across  the  tide  of  busy  life, 

Came  the  sad  tidings  :  "  Died  the  young  and  brave, 

The  promising  ;  not  in  the  hostile  strife, 

But  by  disease,  from  which  no  skill  could  save." 

What !  dead  !  How  strange  !  that  that  lov'd  form  and 

face, 

That  manly  brow,  and  intellectual  eye, 
All  beaming  with  intelligence  and  grace, 
Now  in  the  narrow  grave  should  senseless  lie  ! 
Ah,  that  a  flower  so  fair,  so  soon  should  droop  and  die. 

This  youth,  by  all  who  knew  him,  was  admired  ; 
He  had  the  moral  force,  the  strength,  the  mind; 
And  when  his  country's  trials  came,  he,  fired 
With  patriotic  zeal,  left  all  behind  — 
Friends,  brothers,  parents,  home,  and  all  so  dear 
To  noble  souls  —  and  thoughtful  went  his  way 
To  join  the  tented  field,  willing  to  bear 
And  suffer  all  that  in  his  power  lay, 
If  only  the  rebellion  could  be  swept  away. 

No  doubt,  like  other  youths,  his  hopes  were  high  ; 
For  who  has  not  built  castles  in  the  air, 


144  ON   THE   DEATH   OF   A   YOUNG   MAN. 

Transient  as  summer  sunbeams  on  the  sky, 
And  dream 'd  fond  dreams,  of  life  devoid  of  care, 
Which  in  maturer  years,  vanish'd  like  dew  ? 
If  such  were  his,  we  vouch  that  they  were  pure, 
And  were  to  him  what  like  dreams  are  to  few,— 
A  holy  fire,  to  prompt  him  to  endure 
And  labor  for  the  right — for  Freedom's  sake,  and  yours. 

His  motives  being  pure,  his  hopes  were  high, 
His  dreams  of  happiness,  as  bright  and  fair 
As  sun-kiss'd  clouds  snatched  from  the  evening  sky, 
Their  odor,  sav'ry  as  the  morning  air 
Of  gentle  May,  perfumed  with  dews  and  flowers; 
And  guileless  as  the  rainbow  tints  they  bear, 
By  the  first  sunshine's  touch  of  morning  hour  : 
And  such  his  pictured  castles,  built  in  air 
With  grand  proportions,  and  adornings  quaint  and  rare. 

His  castles  stood,  no  doubt,  on  martial  fame  — 
Of  honors  won,  in  great,  glorious  strife, 
And  on  the  list  of  heroes  saw  his   name 
Inscribed  high  up,  in  characters  of  life  ; 
But  all  these  hopes,  how  vain  !     His  short  career 
Is  closed  for  aye  —  his  earthly  race  is  run  — 
And  while  we  pay  the  tribute  of  a  tear, 
Let  us  rejoice  that  he  has  nobly  won 
The  victory  of  Life  —  Immortal  Joys  to  Come. 


LINES   ON   THE   CHRISTMAS  EVE   OF   1881.  145 


LINES  WRITTEN  ON  THE  CHRISTMAS  EVE  OF 

1881. 


Hail  to  this  Christmas  Eve  of  eighty  one  ! 
All  Adam's  race,  redeem'd  by  God's  own  Son  ! 
Hail  earth's  remotest  millions  every  where, 
Where  God  hath  smil'd,  or  heard  a  fervent  prayer. 

From  hearts  unnumber'd  let  thanksgivings  rise, 
Commingling  tide  with  tide  to  reach  the  skies, 
And  ebbing  up  before  Jehovah's  throne, 
He  will  observe,  and  all  his  children  own. 

Hail,  sacred  night !  the  which  we  yearly  press 
Close  to  the  yearning  soul,  memorial  of  the  Blest ; 
Who,  humbly  stooping  from  the  courts  above, 
Moved  by  compassion  pure,  and  heavenly  love, 
By  pain  and  sacrifice  prepar'd  the  way, 
Whereby,  who  would,  might  reach  eternal  day. 

From  this,  our  standpoint,  on  this  very  night, 
Let  us  look  out  on  Time's  stupendous  flight  — 
'Way  up  the  stream,  o'er  generation's  dead, 
Slumbering  on  generations  long  since  fled  — - 
O'er  crowns  and  cities  crumbl'd  into  dust, 
And  kings  and  kingdoms  now  forever  hush'd  — 
Where  ruins  piled  on  ruins  strew  the  way, 
K          7 


146  LINES   ON   THE   CHRISTMAS   EVE   OF   188!. 

And  upon  these,  sets  grizzly,  grim  decay, 
Count  the  centuries,  till  the  Nineteenth  appears, 
And  each  containing  its  one  hundred  years  ; 
On  that  far  shore,  behold  those  shepherds  there, 
"Watching  their  flocks,  their  treasure  and  their  care; 
Though  on  each  form  an  antique  garb  is  worn, 
Yet  in  each  breast  a  heart  like  ours  is  borne ; 
Night  covers  earth,  and  the  same  star-deck'd  sky 
Is  o'er  their  heads,  as  here  doth  greet  our  eye. 
When  all  at  once,  that  sky  is  in  a  glow 
Of  light  Celestial  —  glory  streams  below, 
These  shepherds  sink  to  earth,  abash'd  with  fear, 
So  bright  the  light,  they  feel  that  God  is  near ; 
When,  lo  !  a  voice,  mild  yet  distinct  and  clear, 
In  heaven-born  accents  vibrates  on  the  ear : 
"•  Be  not  afraid,  but  calm  in  heart  and  mind, 
Glad  tidings  of  great  joy  and  love  I  find 
And  bring  to  you  and  yours,  and  all  mankind  ; 
Behold  this  day  is  born  of  David's  line, 
In  David's  town,  a  Savior,  Lord  Divine, 
Who  is  the  Christ,  and  this  shall  be  the  sign." 

'  O 

Then  with  triumphant  shouts  the  heavens  ring, 
And  choirs  angelic  soon  are  heard  to  sing, 
"Glory  to  God  most  high,  and  on  earth,  Peace 
And  good  will  to  all  men  "  —  they  then  cease  ; 
These  shepherds  rise  for  search,  no  more  afraid, 
And  find  the  child  —  lo  !  in  a  manger  laid. 

Observe  :  close  by  appears  a  stranger  star, 
And  wise  men,  watching,  follow  from  afar  — 


LINES   ON   THE   CHRISTMAS   EVE    OF   1881.  14:7 

Till  all  at  once,  it  brighter  glows,  and  where  ? 
O'er  that  humble  shed.  Why  ?  Ah,  God  is  there; 
They  know,  and  enter  —  bow  at  the  infant's  feet, 
And  cry,  "O  God  !  thy  work  is  now  complete." 

And  thus  the  Savior  came,  meekly  and  low, 
A  disregard  for  human  pomp  and  show, 
This  lowly,  pious  group,  and  humble  born, 
Honors  divine  from  God  and  heaven  adorn. 

What  greater  gift  than  this  could  God  bestow  ? 
His  Son,  to  heal  our  wounds  and  sooth  our  woe; 
The  humble  contrite  heart  he  loves  to  own, 
The  haughty  and  the  proud  he  will  bring  down; 
And  when  by  some  a  mission  he  'd  fulfill, 
He  chooses  for  that  mission,  whom  he  will. 
Forever  and  for  aye,  the  same  as  now, 
He  doeth  all  things  well  —  we  can't  say  how. 
His  instruments  like  him  are  low  of  birth, 
Yet  with  their  deeds  sublime,  they  startle  earth  ; 
Long  is  the  catalogue  —  few  we  would  name, 
And  those,  who  in  our  time  amongst  us  came. 

A  Lincoln,  at  whose  sudden  death,  a  pall 
Fell  at  each  door,  and  o'er  the  hearts  of  all, 
Rose  step  by  step  from  life's  most  lowly  walk, 
Trusted  in  God,  and  made  not  trust  a  mock, 
And  in  his  country's  trying  needs  and  hour, 
Leaned  on  the  staff  of  prayer  to  higher  power. 
And  when  our  cause  seem'd  dark  and  effort,  vain, 
When  mothers  wept,  and  fathers  groaned  for  pain, 


148  LINES   ON   THE    CHRISTMAS   EVE    OF    1881. 

When  husbands  gave  their  lives,  and  wives  their  tears, 
When  faith  grew  small  and  magnified  our  fears  ; 
And  whispers  were  abroad,  that  fail  we  must, 
He  stamp'd  upon  our  coin,  "In  God  we  trust." 
And  soon  upon  the  nation,  broke  the  day  : 
Freedom  was  bless'd  —  Rebellion,  swept  away. 

Grant,  at  whose  very  name  (though  short  and  mild). 
Secession  trembled  and  the  Union  smil'd, 
Was  frank  and  plain,  he  hated  vain  display. 
Trusted  in  God,  and  God  marked  out  the  way. 

Our  much  loved  Garfield,  who  in  humble  way 
O'er  this  great  people  held  such  mighty  sway, 
Whose  fall  in  glory's  hour  by  villain's  hand, 
Stretch'd  mourning  as  a  garment  o'er  the  land, 
And  the  cold  world,  as  it  had  ne'er  before, 
Dropp'd  tears  of  sympathy  upon  our  shore, 
Was  humbly  born,  to  Poverty  the  heir, 
Rose  by  industry  hard,  a  will  to  dare, 
Aided  by  strict  integrity  and  humble  prayer. 

Thus  it  has  been  through  time,  and  the  world  wide, 
God  loves  the  meek  and  chastens  selfish  pride. 

And  while,  this  eve,  good  gifts  we  give,  and  share, 
With  inner  feelings,  tongue  can  not  declare, 
Let's  not  forget  the  gift  that  God  has  given, 
His  only  Son,  to  show  the  way  to  heaven. 


AUTUMN.  149 


AUTUMN. 


See,  how  the  winds  the  form  of  Autumn  wear, 

The  woods  and  fields  they  sweep,  the  clouds  they  bear  ; 

And  where  bat  yesterday,  the  voice  of  Spring 

Made  hill  and  valley  with  her  music  ring, 

And  budding  plants  and  flowers  along  the  way, 

Bade  rise,  and  to  her  coming  homage  pay, 

While  from  the  bounties  of  her  genial  hand 

Were  strown  green  robes  and  garlands  o'er  the  land, 

And  from  her  zephyr'd  breath  came  sweet  perfume 

Of  smiling  blossoms  'waken'd  into  bloom  ; 

Now,  comes  Decay,  and,  with  an  angry  frown, 

He  swings  his  scythe  and  mows  those  garlands  down; 

"Where  then  sweet  scented  zephyrs  as  they  pass'd, 

Breathed  gentleness  and  love,  the  Northern  Blast 

Now  whistles  dreary  bleakness  o'er  the  plain, 

And  moaning  forests  tell  his  gloomy  reign; 

And  where  sweet  dews  refresh'd  each  plant  and  flower, 

Now  keen-edged  Frost,  swoops  down  with  mighty  power, 

Lays  low  and  blanches  out  each  verdant  hue 

Which  Spring  had  nurs'd,  and  kiss'd  with  lips  of  dew; 

And  where  the  buds,  unfolding  with  a  smile, 

Their  matron  welcom'd  without  a  taint  of  guile, 

Now,  couch  their  heads,  and  hide  away  for  fear, 

While  'round  them  Boreas  whistles,  bleak  and  drear. 


150  AUTUMN. 

Cold  earth  and  air,  and  sparsely  clouded  sky, 
Witness  the  change,  and  sadly  seem  to  sigh  ; 
So  man.  when  all  his  spring-like  joys  are  fled, 
Looks  down  on  coming  age  with  conscious  dread, 
And  fain  would  hide  him  from  Time's  blasting  breath, 
That  sweeps  him,  ever,  ever  on  to  death. 


LINES   WRITTEN    TO   A   FRIEND. 


LINES  WRITTEN  TO  A  FRIEND, 

TO   BE   READ  ON  AN   ANNIVERSARY  AT  A  COLLEGE 
FORMERLY  ATTENDED  BY  THE  AUTHOR. 

"Time  changes  all  !  "     So  sighs  the  flying  hour  ; 
"Time  changes  all,"  and  we  must  feel  its  power; 
Most  keenly  feel,  when  friend  with  friend  must  part, 
And  snapp'd  must  be  those  ties  that  bind  the  heart. 

The  scenes  which  I  with  pleasure  once  survey'd 

In  Alfred's  hall,  and  Alfred's  forest  shade, 

(That  on  the  hill-side  spread  its  mantle  soft,) 

The  vales,  where  I  with  pleasure  wander'd  oft, 

The  murmuring  brook,  that  there  went  babbling  by, 

The  distant  pine,  that  seem'd  to  kiss  the  sky; 

(Whereon  climb'd  up  my  thoughts  from  earth  to  God), 

The  varied  landscape,  there  outstretch'd  and  broad, 

And  the  faces,  met  there,  hail  and  bright ; 

All  these  have  pass'd  forever  from  my  sight; 

And  now  in  distant  lands  is  cast  my  lot, 

My  thoughts  look  back  upon  that  happy  spot, 

As  homesick  children,  who  'mid  strangers  roam, 

Look  back  upon  their  father's  quiet  dome. 

The  throngs,  that  crowded  once  those  spacious  rooms 
Have  scatter'd  been  like  clouds  —  some  to  their  tombs 
Have  wended,  others  broadcast  through  the  land, 


152  LINES    WRITTEN   TO    A    FRIEND. 

Are  draining  out  life's  still  unwasted  sand. 

Some  teach  the  blooming  fields  to  gladly  rear 

The  golden  harvest  for  each  closing  year, 

And  by  their  scythe,  swung  by  a  sinewy  hand, 

To  lay  their  offerings  at  the  shrine  of  man. 

Some  mould  the  tender  mind,  give  power  to  thought, 

And  shape  the  future  of  the  being  taught. 

Some  speak  of  Jesus,  and  abroad  proclaim 

Mankind's  redemption  in  the  Savior's  name. 

Some  advocate  the  equity  of  laws, 

And  plead  with  eloquence  their  clients'  cause, 

And  some  (beholding  ills  of  human  life), 

Mov'd  by  compassion  deep,  have  whet  the  knife 

Of  science,  and  where  foul  disease  is  rife, 

And  human  beings  pine  on  Torture's  rack, 

They  interpose  the  blade,  and  beckon,  "  Back." 

And  nearly  all,  on  Matrimony's  stage, 

Play  well  the  drama  for  the  future  age  ; 

Yet  all,  whate'er  their  lot  or  fortune  be, 

Stretch  back  the  lips  of  fondest  memory, 

And  to  old  Alfred  press'd,  rekiss  the  spot 

Where  hopes  arose  they  never  have  forgot ; 

And  thoughts  of  what  they  should  be,  and  what  not ; 

Where  strange  and  droll  were  mingled  lot  with  lot, 

And  friendship  young  link'd  youthful  soul  to  soul, 

And  soft  affection  working  strange  control, 

Wove  close  the  web  of  Love;  or  Cupid's  dart 

Would  often  wound  the  most  unwilling  heart. 

And  still  my  memory  loves  to  linger  near 
These  cherish'd  scenes,  and  in  its  falling  tear 


LINES   WRITTEN    TO   A   FRIEND.  153 

See  bygone  pleasure's  sunshine  gleam,  as  you 

Have  seen  earth's  sunshine,  sparkle  in  the  dew  ; 

And  when  sweet  eve,  on  heaven's  azure  breast 

Has  placed  her  gems  to  twinkle  and  to  rest, 

My  thoughts  oft  wander  back,  and  strangely  droll, 

Live  o'er  those  scenes  that  once  have  bless'd  the  soul; 

And  dream  again  the  dream  that  then  I  dream'd 

Of  a  fair  future,  which  was  (as  it  seem'd), 

All  lined  with  golden  clouds,  whose  hallow'd  light 

Gave  all  my  coming  years  a  halo  bright. 

And  when  a  jubilee  like  this  I  view, 
My  soul  retouch'd  with  warmer  zeal,  and  new, 
Leaps  up  —  catches  with  ecstasy  the  strain 
That  fired  my  being  then,  (one  still  untamed,  i 
And  hears  the  one  that  wild  Ambition  chim'd 
Among  the  strings  that  tuned  my  youthful  mind. 
And  each  of  you,  when  years  have  fled  away, 
Will  look  with  pleasure,  back  upon  this  day; 
The  feelings  now  that  rise  within  your  breast, 
Will  look  like  mountains  sinking  in  the  West, 
And  each  enjoyment  found,  at  times  like  this 
Will  read  on  mem'ry's  lettered  tablet,  " 


154  OLD   ALLEGANY. 


OLD  ALLEGANY 

THE   COUNTY   OF   THE   AUTHOR'S   NATIVITY   IN   THE    STATE 
OF   NEW    YORK. 

Old  Allegany  !     Bless  that  name  ! 

Some  poet's  tongue  should  speak  thy  fame  ; 

And  since  no  poet  thou  hast  bred, 

May  I  not  fill  that  poet's  stead  ? 

And  in  a  bungling  sort  of  rhyme 

With  all  thy  saw-mills  leag'd,  keep  time; 

Or    roaming  through  some  narrow  vale, 

Rehearse  the  humble  peasant's  tale  ; 

Or,  pausing  near  some  mountain  stream, 

Indulge  me  in  a  wilder  dream; 

Or,  climbing  at  the  mountain's  side, 

Extend  the  checker'd  prospect  wide, 

Of  hills  and  valleys  robed  in  green, 

Where  hamlets,  groves  and  fields  are  seen, 

And  forests,  towering,  rude  and  wild, 

With  arms  extended  many  a  mile, 

As  if  the  landscape  to  embrace, 

And  kiss  its  ever  smiling  face  ; 

Or,  with  the  elements  at  war, 

Wave  their  leaf-woven  banners  far, 

Till  in  the  distance,  dim  and  blue, 

They  rear  their  heads  in  sable  hue, 

And  stretching  up  against  the  sky, 

Shut  farther  vision  from  the  eye. 


OLD   ALLEGANY.  155 

All  these  scenes  my  soul  have  fill'd. 
Their  voices  wild  my  ears  have  thrill'd  ; 
I  love  you  yet,  O  native  hills. 
Where  I  have  set  and  pondered,  till 
The  sun  beneath  the  West  withdrew, 
And  night  o'er  all  its  curtain  threw. 

Or  when  some  stream,  late  swell'd  with  rain, 

Came  madly  dashing  o'er  the  plain, 

Or  rushing  from  its  head-land  height, 

Like  a  young  lion  in  its  might, 

Loud  roaring,  till  the  wild  woods  near 

Returned  the  echo  in  my  ear  ; 

I've  paus'd,  enraptured  at  the  thought, 

And  feeling  it  had  in  me  wrought, 

Till  lost  in  wildest  mood  of  mind, 

From  which  when  waked,  I  waked  to  find 

The  tide  encircling  me  complete, 

And  waters  grumbling  at  my  feet. 

Or  through  the  valley  I  have  rov'd, 
And  paused  within  some  shady  grove, 
And  heard  the  peasant  of  the  vale, 
Each  in  his  turn  rehearse  his  tale 
Of  some  romantic  act  or  scene, 
Or  deed  of  which  he  'd  the  hero  been, 
And  then  went  up  that  ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 
In  accents  unrefined  and  raw, 
Which  show'd  beyond  his  own  control, 
A  rude,  a  rough,  yet  noble  soul ; 
Yes,  many  such  thy  valbys  had 


156  OLD   ALLEGANY. 

To  make  their  many  homesteads  glad, 
And  none  but  loved  ones  knew  the  prize, 
So  covered  up  in  deep  disguise. 

Old  Allegany  !  what  a  sound  ! 
It  sinks  into  my  soul  deep  down, 
And  rouses  sights  that  long  have  been 
With  clouds  of  dark  oblivion  dim, 
And  rous'd,  they  move  before  my  eyes, 
Uriveird  in  wonted  life  and  size. 

Old  Allegany,  dear  to  me, 

And  choicely  stor\l  in  memory 

Are  all  thy  scenes  !     I  love  them  well- 

And  on  them,  ling'ring,  love  to  dwell. 

Your  springs,  your  rocks,  your  hills,  your  plains, 

Your  flocks,  your  herds,  deserve  a  name. 

And  all  your  villages  between 

Your  rugged  hills,  we  would  not  screen, 

But  let  tb.em  elevated  shine 

Like  candles  of  the  olden  time. 

Angelica,  their  worthy  crown, 
Is  where  the  legal  court  is  found, 
And  law  her  measures  deal  to  all 
Who  upon  her  for  justice  call  ; 
Old  Almond,  too,  not  far  away, 
'Mid  rugged  hills  makes  small  display, 
Yet  there  are  angels  'neath  its  shade, 
But  angels  of  a  lower  grade; 
Old  Alfred,  for  true  science  fam'd, 


OLD   ALLEGANY.  157 

Where  earnest  men  the  truth  proclaim, 

Sits  in  a  narrow  vale  in  peace, 

Burning  those  lamps  that  never  cease 

To  pierce  with  holy  rays  the  mind, 

And  aids  in  blessing  all  mankind  — 

He  from  these  lamps,  new  lamps  has  lit, 

Which  now  in  other  valleys  sit, 

As  burning  tapers,  and  whose  beams 

Wake  men  from  Ignorance's  dreams, 

Who  once  enlightened  by  their  gleam, 

New  beings  hence  forever  seem  ; 

And  always  seeking  now  the  light, 

Chase  from  their  minds  the  shades  of  night. 

Rushford  was  first  to  catch  the  fire, 
Which  now  ten  thousand  hearts  inspire ; 
To  Friendship  next  the  blessing  came, 
A  spark,  soon  kindling  into  flame. 
To  Richburg  then  a  light  was  given  — 
I  can  not  say  from  earth  or  heaven  — 
But  by  Old  Alfred  fir'd  he  came, 
Of  whencesoever  be  his  name, 
And  Alfred's  character  partook, 
In  action,  meaning,  word  and  look. 

There,  hills-surrounded  Wellsville  shines 

In  legal  robes  of  later  times  ; 

Here,  too,  is  Portage,  Pike  and  Hume, 

Though  small,  yet  in  themselves  presume 

To  put  on  airs  of  larger  towns, 

Though  theirs  be  not  of  courts  or  crown. 


158  OLD  ALLEGANY. 

Hail !  Allegany,  and  adieu  ! 

Ye  valleys  green  and  mountains  blue, 

And  thunder  clouds  of  darker  hue, 

Which  stretch'd  from  hill-top  to  the  sky, 

Whereon  the  lightning's  path  awry, 

My  thoughts  were  wont  to  climb  on  high  ; 

To  all  these  scenes,  belov'd  and  true, 

My  mem'ry  bears  sweet  thoughts  of  you  ;- 

My  native  land,  adieu  !  adieu  ! 


O  FOR   AN   HOUR  OF  SOBER   THOUGHT.  159 


O  FOR  AN  HOUR  OF  SOBER  THOUGHT 


0  for  an  hour  of  sober  thought, 
To  think  and  ponder  as  I  ought ; 
The  busy  world  I  'd  cast  aside, 

And  walk  with  nature,  wild  and  wide  — 

Forsake  the  babblings  of  mankind, 
The  empty  bubbles  of  the  mind, 
And  in  some  forest's  lone  retreat, 

1  'd  take  my  solitary  seat  ; 

There  to  reflect,  as  needs  must  be, 
On  Nature's  wide-spread  harmony, 
Where  every  thing  without  control, 
Fill  with  pure  love  the  pond'ring  soul. 

Each  tree  and  plant,  each  leaf  and  flower, 
Speak  of  this  theme  at  midnight  hour, 
And  none  forget  to  say,  "  'Tis  true," 
While  yet  refresh'd  by  morning  dew. 

And  when  the  sun  at  noon  rides  high, 
The  soul  receives  the  same  reply  ; 
And  then,  at  twilight's  hour,  we  see, 
On  all  things,  written,  "  Harmony." 


160  THE   VARIED   FORMS   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 

O  Nature  !  how  I  love  your  ways  — 
My  sweet  resort  in  early  days  ; 
Still  — -  still  my  wish  would  ever  be, 
To  mix  my  life  and  self  with  thee. 


BEHOLD    THE    VARIED    FORMS    OF    HUMAN 
NATURE. 


With  an  observing  eye,  my  friend  most  dear, 

Lets  look  around  about  us,  far  and  near, 

On  human  nature  in  the  human  breast, 

In  varied  forms,  and  countless  manners  dress'd  ; 

When  placid  Peace  smoothes  down  the  inner  sea, 

Whose  tranquil  face  makes  perfect  imagery, 

And  when  wild  Passion's  waves  roll  mountain  high, 

And  rent  with  storms  are  inner  earth  and  sky. 

What  living  surges  'round  us  dance  or  roar, 
That  kiss,  or  dash  against  their  vital  shore, 
In  some  mysterious  style,  or  mystic  way, 
Whether  in  darkness  or  at  open  diiy. 

Look  in  each  living  face,  the  low,  the  high, 

See  strong  and  weak,  the  open,  and  the  sly, 

The  smooth,  the  rough  of  tongue,  the  quick,  the  slow, 

Some  always  saying  "  Yes,"  some  always  u  No." 

See  the  gray  sire,  contrasted  with  the  beau, 


THE   VARIED   FORMS   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.  161 

The  sober  dame,  with  the  wild  girl  of  show  ; 

The  man  of  thought  and  of  reflective  mien, 

With  the  light  dancer,  the  thoughtless  and  the  green  ; 

Here,  one  all  intellect,  soul  all  on  fire, 

With  there  an  eye,  expressing  scarce  desire  ; 

The  thinking  world,  who  ponder,  search,  and  weigh, 

With  pleasure-seeking,  empty,  giddy,  gay  ; 

The  look  all  full  of  feeling  and  of  soul, 

With  the  blank  stare,  so  feelingless  and  bold. 

In  some,  behold  the  light  of  virtue's  fire  — 
In  others,  vice,  corruption,  mud,  and  mire  ; 
These,  all  are  steep'd  in  infamy  and  crime, 
Those,  in  good  deeds  and  spotless  honor  shine  ; 
With  virtue's  votaries,  are  joy  and  peace  ; 
With  those  of  vice  are  woes  without  release  ; 
That,  leads  to  happiness,  all  bright  and  fair  — 
This,  to  misery,  deepening  to  despair. 

Choose  you  this  day  which  one  of  these  ye  '11  wed, 
Vice  or  virtue,  and  in  whose  path  you'll  tread; 
And  on  the  morrow,  shall  be  told  the  tale, 
And  from  the  mighty  gulf,  withdraw  the  veil, 
Betwix'd  the  sinner,  with  his  scroll  of  shame, 
And  the  bright  saint  with  his,  a  spotless  name. 
Oh,  how  that  valley  deepens  as  they  go  ! 
The  one  to  bliss,  the  other  —  on  to  woe. 

And  some  there  are,  who  would  the  gospel  preach, 
Whose  precepts  and  examples  two  things  teach  ; 
Whose  words  as  brass,  would  make  a  mighty  din  — 
L  7* 


162  THE   VARIKD   FORMS   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 

But  souls,  alas,  no  larger  than  a  pin  ; 
With  views  contracted  as  a  poor  man's  purse, 
A  mind  as  gaunt,  benevolence  much  worse, 
Who  fain  would  crush  each  good  that  doth  arise, 
By  them  unsanctioned,  'neath  their  envious  eyes  ; 
Who  think  no  other  blessings  worth  two  peas, 
Than  those  they  shar'd  while  boys,  rather,  gawkies 
With  these  they  measure  every  gift  of  soul, 
The  best  they  censure,  and  the  worse  extol  ; 
And  when  some  youth,  fired  by  a  noble  zeal, 
Within,  their  own  immortal  natures  feel, 
Would  seek  to  feed  on  intellectual  food,  the  soul, 
They  then  are  ready,  and,  with  bearing  bold, 
Will  use  their  bravest  means  to  thwart  such  aim, 
That  all  like  them,  may  have  an  empty  brain  ; 
And  if,  in  spite  of  them,  one  bursts  to  light, 
To  be  the  comef  of  a  future  night, 
They  cry  out,  "  Fool  !  it  is  at  last  to  fail, 
"  As  well  a  whistle  make  of  a  pig's  tail." 

These  are  the  blocks  that  clog  progression's  wheel, 
Who  feel  no  zeal,  and  would  that  none  should  feel, 
And  whereso'er  they  are,  they  may  be  seen, 
To  throw  cold  water  on  the  best  of  means  ; 
And  this,  to  give  is  all  that  they  are  known 
In  aid  to  any  cause,  except  their  own. 

Here  Superstition's  clouds,  dense,  dark  and  wry, 
Hide  the  bright  sun  of  reason  in  the  sky  ; 
"  Of  these,"  to  every  youth  I  'd  say,  "  Beware  ! 
Though  seeming  friends,  they  hide  a  secret  snare, 


THE    VARIED    FORMS   OF    HUMAN    NATURE.  163 

And  if  to  them  was  given  but  the  power, 

They  would  not  aid  you  in  the  trying  hour, 

But,  if  above  themselves,  one  step  you  'd  rise,      » 

They  'd  pull  you  down,  and  pluck  out  both  your  eyes.'1 

But  be  it  known,  to  them  it  is  not  given 
To  say  who  shall,  or  shan't,  ascend  to  heaven  •, 
And  we  rejoice  that  they  have  never  found 
The  key  which  locks  the  door  to  higher  ground, 
And  you  and  I  that  door  may  surely  find 
By  noble  culture  of  the  heart  imd  mind, 
And  taste  of  purer  air  and  brighter  day, 
As  saints  direct,  and  God  points  out  the  way. 

But  as  we  pass  along  this  crowded  route 

Of  human  nature  and  its  high  lookout, 

How  can  we  pause,  or  shut  our  eyes  to  rest, 

When  all  around  us,  rises  pest  on  pest  ? 

See  those  with  rankling  venom,  and  whose  tongue 

Heap  calumny  upon  the  old  and  young, 

Whose  e.irs  are  prim'd  for  rumors  as  they  rise, 

To  catch  and  mould  them  into  little  lies  ; 

Then,  "  spinning  street  yarn,"  all  the  town  must  ring, 

With  color'd  rumors  from  these  noisy  things  ; 

Who  strew  disgrace  and  discord  as  they  go, 

Make  strangers,  enemies,  and  friends  make  foes  ; 

And  o'er  the  skies  of  peace,  where  virtues  reign, 

They  blow  the  whirlwind  breath  of  wrong  and  shame, 

And  when  these  are  unto  the  welkin  spread, 

They'll  turn  and  rake  the  ashes  of  the  dead. 


164  THE    VARIED    FORMS   OF   HUMAN    NATURE. 

O  if  there's  aught  the  world  should  hate  and  scorn, 

It  is  the  slanderer,  with  her  trumpet  horn, 

Who  fills  the  wind  with  her  precious  cries, 

And  writes  "  Disgrace  "  upon  the  spotless  skies  • 

And  in  the  starry  vault  of  peaceful  night, 

Says  to  each  twinkling  star,  "  Not  all  is  bright." 

These  are  the  scythes  that  would  with  keen  edged  power 
Mow  down  fair  virtue's  every  smiling  flower  ; 
Though  with  pretended  good  they  would  deceive, 
You  well  can  know  them  by  the  breath  they  breathe, 
Which  ever  stinks  with  lies,  and  bears  a  fang, 
The  absent  suffering  from  their  ceaseless  slahg, 

But  turning  to  one  side,  let  us  pass  by, 
And  see  low  Cunning,  the  deceitful  eye, 
Whose  looks  are  friendship's  wreath'd  within  a  smile, 
While  deep  within,  are  treachery  and  guile  ; 
Though  finding  fault  with  others,  they  in  you 
Behold  a  friend,  most  worthy  and  most  true  ; 
So  say  their  oily  tongue-*  before  your  face, 
And  when  with  others,  heap  on  you  disgrace, 
When  with  a  kiss  they  'd  show  themselves  most  true, 
Old  Ahab  like,  they'll  stab  you  through  and  through, 
And  when  along  the  mead  you  thoughtlessly  pass, 
They  prove  themselves  "the  snakes  within  the  grass," 
And  when  you  dream  of  naught  but  faith  and  truth, 
They  '11  pierce  your  naked  skin  with  poison'd  tooth, 
And  soon  are  rankling  through  your  every  vein, 
Blighted  fair  hopes,  and  agony  and  pain. 


THE    VARIED   FORMS   OF   HUMAN    NATURE.  165 

These  are  the  serpents  which,  with  seeming  charms, 

Allure  their  prey,  entice  and  then  disarms, 

And  if  you  would  their  hated  purpose  foil, 

Do  not  be  taken  in  their  wily  toils, 

But  be  forewarned  by  one  who  has  been  dealt, 

Of  him,  whose  mouth  soft  butter  would  not  melt. 

But  these  three  last  are  on  the  dismal  side 

Of  human  nature,  checker'd,  long  and  wide  ; 

While  on  the  other,  much  there  is  of  good, 

And  flowers  are  blooming  in  the  field  and  wood  — 

Where  Friendship,  Constancy,  and  Love,  and  Truth, 

Forever  smile  in  one  unfading  youth, 

And  heaven  comes  down  their  votaries  to  greet, 

And  strew  life's  fairest  gifts  about  their  feet; 

While  they  with  harmless  tread  march  on  the  way 

Through  valleys  green,  up  to  the  gates  of  day. 

Such  is  the  faithful  wife,  of  all  the  pride, 
And  such,  the  faithful  husband  at  her  side, 
Faithful  in  all,  howe'er  severely  tried; 
And  by  whatever  foes  or  trials  press'd, 
Their  children  rise  and  call  them  ever  bless'd, 
And  those  in  want,  and  those  in  deep  distress, 
Repeat  the  strain,  adding,  "  True  friends  in  need," 
"Worthy  of  heart,  coupl'd  with  worthy  deeds;  " 
And  widowed  mothers  lift  an  earnest  prayer 
For  God  to  bless  their  doings  every  where, 
And  for  their  nameless  deeds  of  kindness  done, 
To  give  them  joy  in  life  and  life  to  come. 


166  THE   VARIED  FORMS  OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 

All  these  amid  life's  lowly  walks  behold, 

Though  having  none,  shine  brighter  far  than  gold  ; 

Though  good,  they  feel  their  weakness  every  hour, 

And  pray  that  they  be  led  by  higher  Power, 

And  by  the  cord  of  love,  let  down  unseen, 

Are  led  "by  waters  still,  through  pastures  green." 

As  closely  you  observe,  these  may  be  known 
As  having  no  pretensions  of  their  own, 
And  by  this  well  known  fact :  they  never  wear 
A  self-important,  self-conceited  air. 

Here,  too,  are  those  who  'd  scorn  a  wicked  thing, 

And  plain  and  open  would  each  action  bring 

On  its  true  merits,  and  would  truly  weigh 

Each  by  its  solid  worth,  without  display  ; 

Who  hate  the  gilded  trappings  of  the  earth, 

And  gaudy  show,  empty  of  real  worth  ; 

Who  would  not  smile  on  kings  of  base  renown, 

Whose  empty  heads  fill  coronets  and  crowns  ; 

But,  Mordecai-like,  would  honor  more 

A  humble  dog  or  beggar  at  his  door  — 

Who  would  put  doAvn  the  hydra  head  of  Vice, 

Though  crown'd  and  deck'd  with  pearls  and  jewels  nice, 

And  would  rear  up  crush'd  innocence  and  right, 

Though  press'd  by  heels  of  monarchs  in  their  might; 

Would  dash  to  earth  each  lie-filled,  jewel'd  cup, 

And  raise  the  naked  truth  and  virtue  up. 

And  for  the  love  of  right,  that  right  might  reign, 

Would  every  danger  face,  and  smile  on  pain  ; 

From  foul  Deceit  tear  ofi  her  false  disguise, 


THE   VARIED   FORMS   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.  167 

And  from  behind  the  storm  unveil  the  skies ; 
From  silken  folds  unwrap  the  sword  of  death, 
And  show  the  glossing  lies  which  freight  the  breath  : 
From  sordid  "Wealth  take  off  her  glossy  show. 
And  show  her  secret  bosom,  filled  with  woe, 
And,  that  on  the  coming  of  the  promis'd  morrow 
It  would  not  bless  to  have  "  a  gilded  sorrow." 

These,  noble  hearts  !  most  noble  virtues  share, 
Yet  mostly  rough  and  plain  exteriors  wear. 

Another  class,  whom  we  would  name  with  pride, 

Are  those  who  always  look  on  the  bright  side, 

Who  think,  though  all  their  skies  with  darkness  lower, 

Their  happy  stars  will  shine  at  evening  hour, 

And  who  believe,  that  in  the  darkest  soul, 

There  i.s  redeeming  light  which  courts  control, 

And  might  be  cultur'd  in  its  truest  sense, 

And  light  the  moral  gloom  however  dense  ; 

And  when  dark  woes  oppress,  will  frequent  say  — 

"It's  always  darkest  just  before  the  day." 

As  you  these  numan  traits  and  airs  survey, 

Mark  well  their  forms  —  how  multiplied  are  they  ! 

That  like  the  rainbow's  hues,  though  mark'd  and  bright. 

They  strangely  blend  together  and  unite  ; 

Thus  grading  each  to  each,  who  can  pretend, 

Where  one  begins  and  where  the  other  ends  ? 

Thus  strangely  mixed,  and  all  together  hurl'd, 

Go  to  make  up  this  busy,  bustling  world  ; 

No  place  so  good  and  pure  but  has  its  bad  — 


168  THE   VARIED   FORMS  OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 

No  place  so  bad  but  that  its  good  hath  had  ; 
And  as  you  pass  along  life's  great  highway, 
Mark  well  each  feature,  be  whate'er  it  may, 
And  gathering  wisdom  from  each  mien  and  look, 
Learn  well  to  read  great  human  nature's  book, 
Whose  pages  every  where  hold  up  to  view 
Instructions  rich  and  lessons  deep  and  true  ; 
And  as  you  read,  may  it  your  heart  improve, 
And  teach  your  mind  on  virtue's  side  to  move, 
That  you  and  I,  when  life's  pursuits  are  o'er, 
May  meet  in  bliss  upon  the  other  shore. 


LINES   OX   THE   MEDICAL    FACULTY.  169 


LINES  WRITTEN  ON  THE  MEDICAL  FACULTY 
OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  MICHIGAN, 

AT     ANN     ARBOR,      WHILE      ATTENDING      THAT       COLLEGE 
A.  D.  1856. 

The  Medical  Faculty  hinted  at  in  this  poem  was  composed  of 
the  following  persons, to  wit. 

SAMUEL  DENTON,  M.  D ,  Professor  of  Theory  and  Practice  of 
Medicine  and  Pathology. 

SILAS  H,  DOUGLASS,  M.  D  ,  Professor  of  Chemistry,  Pharmacy 
and  Toxicology. 

ABRAHAM  SAGER,  M.  D.,  Professor  of  Physiology. 

C.  L.  FORD,  M.  D.,  Professor  of  Anatomy. 

ALONZO  B.  PALMER,  M.  D.,  Professor  of  Therapeutics,  Materia 
Medica,  and  Diseases  of  Women  and  Children. 

MOSES  GUNN,  M.  D.,  Professor  of  Surgery. 

'Twas  night  —  the  clouded  heavens,  low'ring,  frowo'd. 
And  darkness  stretch'd  her  sable  curtain  'round  — 
When  I,  with  an  unusual  supper  bless'd, 
Drowsy  and  weary,  sought  my  couch  for  rest, 
And  soon  was  rev'ling,  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
Within  that  monster  land,  the  land  of  dreams. 

Methought  'twas  morn,  and  the  just  rising  sun 
Had  kiss'd  the  distant  hills,  and  one  by  one 
Crown'd  in  a  head-dress  bright,  of  golden  light, 
While  in  the  vales,  still  slept  the  shades  of  night ; 
And  I,  new  come  to  these  enchanting  hours, 
Stood  in  Ann  Arbor  richly  deck'd  with  flowers  — • 


170  LINES   ON   THE    MEDICAL   FACULTY. 

The  fairest  prospects  stretch VI  themselves  away, 

Each  basking  in  the  smiles  of  coming  day  — 

When  all  at  once  the  ground  uphove  as  though 

Pluto  was  rising  from  the  shades  below  ; 

And  soon  to  sight  a  shapeless  being  burst, 

By  man  abhorr'd,  by  God  and  heaven  accursed. 

Far  back  he  stretch'd  a  scrawling  length  along, 

On  which  was  snaky  folds,  and  hateful  prongs, 

Thick-set  with  scales  and  many  slimy  things  ; 

These,  venom'd  serpents,  those,  pernicious  stings  — 

And  then  that  hydra  head  —  who  can  describe, 

Though  Pollocks  aid  him,  and  though  Miltons  guide  ? 

Malicious  lightnings  lurk'd  within  its  eyes, 

And  shot  around  a  thousand  deadly  dyes  ; 

His  mouth  as  ^Etna's  crater  open'd  wide, 

In  which  to  quench  his  thirst  flow'd  the  full  tide 

Of  ebbing  life,  from  all  the  world  beside  ; 

Far  out  he  thrust  a  thousand  forked  tongue, 

And  on  each  fork  a  human  being  hung, 

Pierced  to  the  very  soul,  gasping  for  breath, 

And  writhing  in  the  agonies  of  death. 

Amaz'd  I  stood  and  longing  much  to  know 
What  could  this  heinous  monster  be  —  when,  lo  ! 
In  a  deep  guttural  voice,  and  loud,  he  said, 
'"  I  am  Disease,  the  Pathway  to  the-Dead." 

Near  by  stood  Science  with  her  blazing  wand, 
Striving  to  snatch  away  each  struggling  man, 
And  oft  succeeded  in  her  eager  strife, 
And  once  cut  off  a  fork  that  danger'd  life  ; 


'    LINES   ON   THE   MEDICAL   FACULTY.  171 

Yet  at  one  gulp  this  beast  forced  thousands  down, 
In  spite  of  Science  and  her  anxious  frown, 
Who  ever  strove  each  struggling  wretch  to  save, 
And  made  a  Dent  to  check  the  greedy  grave. 
On  her  broad  breast  a  lofty  Douglass  strode  — 
Through  solvent  nature  pointed  out  the  road, 
And  here  he  entered  the  embattl'd  field, 
And  o'er  this  monster's  poisons  throws  a  shield. 
An  AVram,  Sager  than  the  one  of  old, 
Play'd  on  her  brow,  and  held  a  favorite  hold  ; 
And  like  the  dog  the  boy  had  taught  to  spell, 
Knew  more  perhaps  than  his  sleek  tongue  could  tell. 
His  was,  to  show  the  way  where  nature  trod, 
But  where  he  flew,  his  soldiers  could  not  plod, 
So  light  he  stepped  few  prints  were  left  behind  — • 
On  came  his  troops,  all  eager,  blund'ring,  blind, 
While  this  one  power  he  held  above  his  kind, 
To  lull  to  sleep  the  most  attentive  mind. 

Anatomy's  wide  stream  swept  o'er  the  glade, 

And  who  would  fight  the  beast,  first,  this  must  wade  ; 

But  if  this  stream  could  ever  be  explor'd, 

If  any  one  could  breast  it,  this  could  Ford. 

'Twas  he  who  piloted  the  raw  recruits, 

Show'd  every  danger,  settled  all  disputes, 

And  safe  and  sound  his  soldiers  over  led,  * 

Upon  the  shoals  of  the  unburied  dead. 

But  to  the  fight  a  brave  Alonzo  came, 

Bearing  a  Palm  engrafted  in  his  name  ; 

He  taught  the  youth  the  temper  of  their  steel, 


172  LINES  ON   THE   MEDICAL   FACULTY. 

What  arms  to  use  on  each  contested  field, 

And  from  Materia  Medica  to  bring 

The  keenest  blades  to  clip  each  scaly  sting  ; 

And  how  to  snatch  the  mother  and  her  child 

From  out  the  jaws  of  this  detest'd,  vile  ; 

Plain  was  his  style,  familiar  his  address, 

And  every  word  left  deep  its  own  impress. 

Meanwhile  proud  Science,  with  her  deep-mouth'd  Gunn, 

Shot  off  each  limb  to  which  Disease  had  clung, 

And  set  the  struggler  free  ;  and  thus  was  sav'd 

Full  many  a  wretch  from  an  untimely  grave. 

Amaz'd  I  stood  admiring  much  such  skill, 
To  see  true  Science  carrying  out  her  will  — 
When,  lo  !  Disease  siez'd  fast  a  wise  man's  leg  ; 
In  vain  he  struggled,  and  imploring,  begg'd  — 
In  vain  he  strove  to  extricate  his  limb, 
And  each  attempt  was  no  avail  to  him  ; 
When  soon  this  Gunn,  as  loud  as  Moses  spoke  — 
Down  dropp'd  the  limb  —  and  I,  surpris'd,  awoke. 


SOLIS  :    OR,  KING   OF   THE   SUN.  173 


A  DRAMATIC  POEM. 


SOLIS:  OR,  KING  OF  THE  SUN. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS. 

SOLIS,  King  of  the  Sun. 

ARCHUS,  Queen  of  the  Rainbow  and  of  Flowers. 

VENUS,  Queen  of  the  Evening  and  Morning  Star. 

LUNA,  Queen  of  the  Moon. 

CRINITA,  Queen  of  a  Comet,  guest  of  Luna. 

TELLUS,  Queen  of  the  Earth,  twin  sister  to  Archus. 


IN     ONE     SCENE     ONLY. 

Enter  SOLIS,  crowned  as  in  representation  of  the  Sun. 
SOLIS. 

On  the  fleet  wing'd  arrows  of  light  I  have  come  ! 

I  am  not  born  of  earth,  but  child  of  the  sun  ; 

Nor  confin'd  am  I  here  by  fate's  galling  tie, 

But  worlds  are  my  diamonds,  my  throne  is  the  sky, 

From  whose  peerless  height  in  radiance  crown'd, 

I  pour  the  rich  rivers  of  beauty  around  ; 

Whose  full  flowing  streams  in  their  season  do  bring, 

The  frowns  of  the  Winter,  the  smiles  of  the  Spring  ; 

Robes  Summer's  fair  fields  in  their  gay,  smiling  flowers, 

And  old  Autumn  bears  on  with  his  golden  hours, 


SOLIS  :    OR,    KING    OF   THE    SUN. 

Whose  harvests  do  till  to  full  rounding-up 
All  the  wants  of  mankind,  and  industry's  cup. 

I  have  held  up  my  lamp  o'er  this  earthly  ball, 
Beheld  nations  rise,  and  have  witness'd  their  fall, 
Lit  the  conqueror  on  with  his  sword  so  unjust  — 
Saw  both  side  by  side  again  humbrd  to  dust; 
When,  lo  !  from  those  ashes  a  like  warrior  sprang, 
Grasp'd   the   remolded   sword,  and  sent  'round  a  like 

clang  ; 

And  kingdoms,  and  empires,  both  lofty  and  proud, 
Shook  off  their  gilt  crowns,  and  submissively  bow'd. 
Time  drove  his  fleet  chariot  over  the  world, 
And  \varriors  and  nations  together  were  hurl'd 
In  one  common  grave,  there  to  moulder  away, 
EntomVd  in  their  ruin,  their  tombstones,  Decay. 
Thus  rulers  and  nations  I  've  witness'd  expire, 
And  ages  go  out  like  the  sparks  of  the  fire  ; 
The  tides  and  the  years  with  my  rulings  agree  — 
Yea  worlds  in  their  rounds  find  a  center  in  me. 

I  Ve  sent  out  my  daughters,  with  blessings  abroad, 

To  adorn  and  enrich  the  works  of  my  God  ; 

The  queen  of  the  moon,  as  she  glides  through  the  sky, 

All  enliven'd  by  me,  looks  down  from  on  high, 

And  invoking  a  smile,  while  night  holds  control, 

Wells  up  lofty  thought  from  the  deep  seated  soul. 

The  queen  of  fair  Venus,  in  her  gentle  way, 

Ushers  in  with  her  smiles  the  close  of  the  day  ; 

Or,  else  in  the  East,  with  a  more  gentle  glow, 

Foretells  that  the  morning  is  slumbering  below ; 


SOLIS  :    OR,   KING   OF  THE   SUN.  1 75 

And  queen  of  the  r  inbow,  mid  goddess  of  flowers. 
Oft  beguiles  with  her  charms  the  by-gliding  hours, 
Though  seldom  to  man  she  reveals  her  fair  form, 
But  holds  up  her  crown  on  the  van  of  the  storm. 
Hail  fair,  gentle  goddess!  come,  leave  your  bright  throne! 
Tis  your  father  who  calls  you:  Come,  daughter,  come. 

Enter  ARCHUS,  crowned  with  tJic  rainbow,  and  in  lier  Jiand  a  basket  oj 

floioers. 

ARCHUS. 

I  heard  your  loud  voice,  and  on  wings  of  a  ray 
I  hasten  to  great  you,  O  king  of  the  day  ; 
From  the  land  of  bright  flowers,  so  precious  to  sight, 
Say,  why  have  you  call'd  me,  O  sov'reign  of  light  2 

SOLIS. 

Hast  thou  painted  thy  hues  so  oft  in  the  sky, 
And  commun'd  with  my  smiles,  and  asketh  me  why  ? 
Say,  is  it  not  proper  that  we  should  draw  nigh, 
And  catch  the  rich  glance  of  the  full,  rolling  eye  ? 
For  us,  who  enliven  creation  at  large, 
To  commune  and  relate  how  prospers  our  charge  ? 

ARCHUS. 

O,  yes,  potent  king  !  and  I  come  to  fulfill ; 
I  only  ask\l  why,  to  learn  your  true  will. 
And  I  bring  from  my  store  this  casket  of  mine, 
In  which  are  great  treasures  to  lay  at  yoar  shrine  ; 
It  contains  the  prime  gem  of  the  deep-hidden  cave, 
The  most  precious  pearls  'neath  ocean's  wide  wave, 


170  SOLI8  :    Oil.    KING   OF  THE   SUN. 

The  prismatic  glass,  which  philosophy  sways, 
To  learn  of  my  beauties,  and  sever  thy  rays  ; 
A  lovely  bouquet,  from  my  choicest  of  flowers, 
Each  rendered  immortal  by  heavenly  powers. 

Here,  take  it — 'tis  yours  ;  I  devote  it  to  thee, 

As  token  of  ties  which  bind  you  and  me  ; 

And  know  that  my  kingdom  with  glory  shall  shine 

Just  so  long  as  light's  wealth  pours  out  from  your  mine  ; 

And  men  will  look  up  from  this  region  below, 

Admiring  me  still  through  the  form  of  my  bow. 

SOLIS. 

(Receiving  the  casket.) 

I  accept  thy  rich  gift,  my  fair,  gentle  child, 
Things  pluck'd  by  thy  hand  from  the  mart  and  the  wild; 
While  they  sparkle  their  wealth,  they  indicate  sure, 
A  heart  and  a  mind  in  thy  bosom  as  pure. 
And  while  I've  look'd  out  o'er  the  rock-cover'd  cave, 
Or  pierced  with  my  beams  through  the  fathomless  wave, 
I've  valued  such  gems,  as  belonging  to  thee, 
And  rejoic'd  in  the  rose  your  image  to  see. 

But  look  to  the  West  —  see  that  fair,  gentle  star, 
Reflecting  its  rays  of  rare  beauty  afar, 
'Tis  there  lovely  Venus,  your  sister,  doth  dwell, 
To  call  her  to  meet  us,  say,  were  it  not  well  ? 

ARCHUS. 
O,  yes,  call  her  —  I  love  to  gaze  on  her  form. 

SOLIS. 

(Calling  at  a  distance.) 
Hail,  Venus,  sweet  queen  of  the  eve  and  the  morn, 


SOLIS  I   OR,   KING  OF  THE   SUN.  177 

Your  gay,  golden  pinions  now  ready  prepare  — 

Hither,  wing  your  fleet  course  through  the  ambient  air. 

Enter  VENUS,  crowned,  and  on  her  crown  a  bright  star. 

VENUS. 

Hail  !  father,  thou  ;  and,  sweet  sister,  hail  ! 
May  wisdom  be  with  you,  and  glory  prevail  ! 
But  what  wilt  thou  with  me,  O  sov'reign  of  day  ? 
Speak  out  thy  commands,  and  forthwith  I  obey. 

SOLIS. 

While  looking  far  out  o'er  the  world's  western  shore, 
We  beheld  your  fair  star,  and  could  but  adore, 
And  deem'd  that  to  call  you  from  thither  awhile, 
In  communion  of  thoughts,  adorn'd  with  a  smile, 
Would  be  a  rare  pleasure  for  us  and  for  thee  ; 
Say,  what  are  the  tidings  from  yon    upper  sea  ? 

VENUS. 

I  bring  3^011  good  tidings  in  which  I  delight, 
And  they  speak  of  yon  star  which  gleams  on  the  sight. 
A  world  like  to  this,  it  revolves  on  its  rounds, 
Wjth  continents,  islands,  and  oceans  abounds  ; 
And  o'er  field  and  through  groves  of  beauty  and  love. 
Vast  swarms  of  glad  creatures  transportingly  move  ; 
Blossoms  smile  on  the  stalk,  fruits  blush  on  the  stem, 
Desiring  as  if  to  be  sever'd  by  men. 
And  while  in  itself,  it's  a  world  of  rich  joys, 
The  light  from  thy  sun  it  most  nobly  employs, 
By  throwing  far  out  into  space  its  soft  hues, 
And  thus,  other  orbs  with  its  mildness  embues. 
M 


178  SOLIS  :    OR,    KING   OF   THE   SUN. 

And  here,  honor'd  sire,  is  a  boon  I  have  brought  — 
Neither  diamond,  nor  pearl,  but  gems  of  deep  thought, 
Unlike  those  which  sister  has  laid  on  thy  shrine, 
They  deck  not  the  person,  but  rather,  the  mind  ; 
They  taught  me,  while  gazing  in  yon  vault  above, 
That  God  is  omniscient,  a  Being  of  love. 

[Presenting  tlie  book  or  gift  ] 

Here,  take  it  —  the  most  precious  gift  I  could  bring  ; 
Peruse  it,  and  prize  it — 'tis  no  worthless  thing. 

SOLIS. 

(Receiving  the  book  or  gift.) 

My  thanks,  noble  daughter  ;  for  rich  it  must  be 
Since  kindled,  it  has,  admiration  in  thee  ; 
For  such  minds  as  yours,  richly  laden  with  lore, 
Will  find  in  no  trifles,  the  things  they  adore  ; 
Therefore,  Til  peruke  it  with  pleasures  unknown, 
For  your  sake  if  all,  and,  I  trust,  for  my  own. 

ARCHUS. 
(To  Venus.) 

Here,  my  sister  mild,  is  a  lock  of  my  hair, 
Clipp'd  while  yet  a  mere  child  —  'tis  thine  for  to  wear 
As  a  pledge  of  my  love,  and  wherever  you  be, 
While  gazing  on  this,  you  will  think  upon  me. 

VENUS. 

(Receiving  the  gift.) 

I  take  with  full  heart,  for  't  will  waken,  in  truth, 
Both  remembrance  of  you,  and  the  days  of  our  youth, 
Those  sweet,  happy  days,  pass'd  forever  away, 
All  swept  off  by  time  in  its  hurried  array  ; 
And  here  is  a  motto,  I  give  in  return, 


SOLIS  :    OR,    KING  OF  THE   SUN.  179 

Which  I  wish  you  would  keep  and  faithfully  learn ; 
It  has  guarded  my  feet  through  dangerous  ways, 
And  shed  deep  in  my  heart  a  joy -given  ray. 

ARCHUS. 

(Receiving  tlw  motto,  reads  aloud. ) 
Motto  —  To  folly  ne'er  a  hearing  lend, 

But  wisdom  make  your  bosom  friend. 
Noble  motto  indeed  !     Has  this  been  your  guide 
While  wheeling  your  world  through  the  universe  wide  ? 
Xo  wonder  your  bosom  doth  burn  with  that  fire 
To  which  all  your  sisters  in  vain  must  aspire 
This  indeed  is  enough  —  the  secret  is  known, 
And  with  a  like  flame,  it  shall  brighten  my  own. 

SOLIS. 
(To  both.)' 

My  fair,  worthy  daughters,  of  right,  worthy  soul, 
The  feelings  you  cause  me  I  can  not  control  ; 
But  are  there  not  others  who  have  a  like  claim  ? 
Look  out  on  the  hill-side,  the  vale,  and  the  plain, 
Behold  !  gentle  Luna  throws  down  her  mild  light, 
And  with  looks  of  her  love  now  softens  the  night. 
O,  shall  I  not  summon  her  presence  this  hour  ? 
Her  words  are  most  gentle,  inspiring  her  power. 

ARCHUS  and  VENUS 

(In  concert.) 

O,  yes,  to  be  sure  !  for  delightful  't  will  be 
To  meet  with  that  sister,  gay,  happy  and  free. 

SOLIS. 

(Calling  as  to  one  at  a  distance.) 
Arise,  gentle  Luna,  thou  queen  of  the  night, 
Descend  down  to  earth  on  the  wings  of  your  light. 


180  SOLIS  :    OR,    KING   OF   THE    SUN. 

Enter  LUNA,  crowned  with  representation  of  the  moon,  and  witlt  tier  a 
stranger,  crowned  in  representation  of  a  Comet,  a  long  train  float 
ing  lightly  from  her  crown. 

LUNA. 

I  come,  potent  father  ;  my  pleasures  are  thine 
Thy  glory  as  wide  as  thy  fulgency  shines. 
[To  Venus  and  Archus,] 

And,  sisters,  I  greet  you,  with  joy  unsuppress'd. 
ARCHUS  and  VENUS. 

(In  concert.) 

We,  thee,  gentle  Luna,  be  thou  ever  bless' d. 

SOLIS. 

(To  Luna.) 

Fair  Luna,  I've  summon'd  thy  sisters  and  thee 
To  hold  a  few  moments  of  converse  with  me, 
And  to  learn  of  yourselves,  how  prospers  your  trusts ; 
Say,  what  dost  thou  bring  from  thy  kingdom  to  us  ? 

LUNA. 

The  tidings  I  bring,  on  my  mission  are  these  : 

My  satellite  swings  around  earth  with  all  ease, 

Silver'd  o'er  with  thy  light  in  image  of  thee, 

And  just  now  is  passing  through  its  perigee. 

Fair  beauties  are  smiling  in  each  glowing  scene, 

Deck  fields  with  their  blossoms,  and  woods  with  their 

green ; 

All  nature  rejoices  and  quietude  reigns  — 
In  short,  there  is  nothing  of  which  I  complain, 
Except,  that,  now  and  then,  this  world  rolls  between 


SOLIS  :    OR,    KING   OF  THE   SUN.  181 

Thy  own  orb  and  mine,  which  makes  a  durk  scene  ; 
But  then  it  soon  passes,  and  leaves  thee  to  shine, 
And  learns  me  to  prize  the    more  justly,  meantime, 
The  blessings  received  from  thy  bountiful  source, 
The  which  if  withheld,  Desolation,  in  course, 
Would  rise  in  his  might,  and  with  a  dire  hand, 
Stretch  wide  the  dark  curtain  of  death  o'er  my  land. 
Then,  thanks,  honor'd  sire,  that  thy  sun-orb  so  bright, 
Sheds  abroad  over  mine  its  life-giving  light ; 
And  I've  brought  you  a  gift,  which  I  wish  you  would 

keep 

As  token  from  me  of  my  gratitude  deep  ; 
'Tis  a  mirror  indeed,  unlike  those  of  art, 
It  reflects  not  the  person,  but,  rather,  the  heart ; 
And  shows  the  emotions  which  swelling  are  there, 
Whether  sympathy,  madness,  hope  or  despair. 

[Presenting  the  gift.] 

Accept  from  my  hand,  and  wherever  thou  art, 
May  it  image  for  thee,  an  unsullied  heart. 

SOLIS. 

(Receiving  the  gift. ) 

Thy  gift,  gentle  Luna,  becomes  such  as  thee, 
And  merits  a  warm  approbation  from  me  ; 
[Turning  to  Crinita,  tfte  stranger. \ 
But  who  is  this  stranger  who  entered  with  you  ? 
Quite  wild  in  her  mien,  if  I  take  a  right  view, 
And  who  carries  behind  a  long  sweeping  train, 
Streaming  out  in  the  wind  like  a  wild  horse's  mane. 
Is  she  not  a  child  of  Pegasus  of  old, 
Who  winged  the  high  vault,  and  there  now  a  place  holds? 


182  SOLIS  :  OR,  KING  or  THE  SUN. 

LUNA. 

This  one  is  Crinita,  my  guest,  noble  sire, 

Whose  throne  is  a  comet  that  worlds  oft  admire  — 

Who,  while  whirling  of  late  her  orbit  around, 

Gave  charge  to  her  nymphs,  and  then  with  a  bound 

Tjeap'd  off  from  her  world  and  lit  in  my  reign, 

To  visit  with  us,  till  her  planet  again, 

Re-encircling  its  path,  shall  pass  by  this  way, 

When  she  spreads  her  gay  plumes  and  departs  on  a  ray. 

SOLIS. 

(To  Crinita.) 

Most  welcome,  Crinita  ;  peace  be  to  your  throne. 
CRINITA. 

(rlo  Solis) 
My  thanks,  honor'd  king  ;  glory  be  to  your  own. 

LUNA. 

(To  Crinita,  looking  to  Archus  and  Venus.) 
My  sisters,  Crinita. 

CRINITA. 

(To  Archus  and  Venus.) 
Hail,  gentle  queens  ! 

ARCHUS  and  VENUS. 

(In  concert.) 
Hail,  thou,  fairest  stranger  ;  hail,  to  these  scenes. 

SOLIS. 

(To  Crinita ) 
Stranger  queen,  the  stamp  of  your  mien,  full  of  light, 


POLIS  :    OR,    KING    OF   THK    SUN.  183 

Reveals  from  within  an  intelligence  bright  ; 
And  since  in  a  strange  course  your  comet  is  bound, 
Perhaps  you  can  tell  us  some  secret  profound  — 
Say,  whither  and  how,  your  flaming  world  rolls, 
And  what  laws  impel  it,  and  what  one  controls. 

CRINITA. 

You  ask,  potent  king,  and  right  glad  I  reply : 

For  sublime  is  my  world  as  it  sweeps  through  the  sky — 

Two  suns  it  revolves  in  its  broad,  ample  course, 

And  receives  from  each  one  an  impelling  force  ; 

The  one,  is  thy  orb,  all  dazzling  with  light  — 

The  other,  so  distant,  it  shrinks  from  the  sight  ; 

Each  one  of  these  serve  as  do  magnetic  poles  — 

Midway  twixt  the  two,  it  but  tardily  rolls, 

But  approaching  near  either,  it  hurries  its  flight. 

Till  worlds  near  its  course,  stand  amaz'd  at  the  sight. 

How  splendid  the  prospect  as  view'd  from  my  throne  ! 

Of  orbs  in  wide  space,  which  Jehovah  has  sown  ; 

Vast  worlds  without  number  dilate  on  the  view, 

Each  enlarging  its  sphere,  and  brightening  its  hue  — 

Still  onward,  right  onward,  my  rapid  world  runs, 

Until  once  twinkling  stars,  are  changed  into  suns  ; 

And  planets  that  cast  unperceivable  light, 

Now  beam  as  broad-orb'd  as  yon  moon  on  the  sight. 

But  arriving  at  one  of  its  predestined  poles, 

It  turns  an  ellipse,  and  awayward  it  rolls  ; 

When  these  worlds,  retiring,  now  lessen  display, 

Till  in  the  dim  distance,  they  vanish  away  ; 

And  others,  like  these,  now  increasing  their  light, 


184  sous  :  OR,  KING  OF  THE  SUN. 

Charm  in  the  same  way,  the  far-wandering  sight. 
Thus  ever  changing  are  the  prospects  I  view, 
Each  furnishing  scenes  of  sublimity  new. 

SOLIS. 

Well  said,  fair  Crinita  ;  I've  witness'd  your  throne, 
In  loftiest  grandeur  encircling  my  own, 
But  the  mysteries  these  words  of  yours  have  reveal'd, 
Ever  before  from  me  and  mine  were  conceal'd, 
And  the  picture  you  paint  of  your  world  as  it  rolls, 
Draws  up  a  deep  thought,  and  enlarges  the  soul. 

ARCHUS  and  VENUS. 

(In  concert) 

And,  too,  deep  within,  you  have  waken'd  our  minds 
To  conceptions  more  grand,  and  thoughts  more  sublime, 
Than  when  we  first  view'd  with  the  wilder  surprise, 
Your  comet  in  flames,  sweeping  on  through  the  skies. 

VENUS. 

X 

(Continuing  alone ) 
And  as  a  return,  here's  a  chart  of  my  throne 

ARCHUS. 
(Alone) 
And  likewise  of  mine,  and  my  bow,  as  unflown. 

CRINITA. 

My  thanks  to  you  both  ;  to  peruse  will  delight, 
And  shed  a  new  ray  of  truth  on  the  sight. 


SOLIS  :    OR,    KING   OF  THE   SUN.  185 

LUNA. 

(To  Archus,  presenting  a  picture.) 
Allow  me,  dear  Archus,  this  keepsake  to  give, 
A  draft  of  the  scenes  where  in  childhood  we  lived, 
Where  as  children  we  sported,  with  childish  delight, 
The  sun,  then  our  home,  our  sire,  king  of  light, 
And  mother,  the  queen  of  reflection,  so  bright. 

ARCHUS. 

(Receiving  the  design.) 

O,  yes  !  how  familiar  to  sight  is  that  spot ! 
It  brings  to  my  mind  things  that  were,  but  are  not ; 
And  while  gazing,  I  seem  to  sport  there  once  more, 
And  with  you,  those  moments  again  to  live  o'er  ; 
So  skillfully  drawn,  'tis  a  treasure  to  me. 
For  which  in  return,  let  me  now  give  to  thee, 
This  memento  of  mine  —  to  wealth  not  the  goal, 
But  a  path  that  doth  lead  deep  into  my  soul. 
'Tis  the  sketch  of  a  scene  I  long  ago  drew, 
The  scene  where  our  father,  each  one  blessed  anew, 
And  gave  us  all  charges  remote  from  his  throne  ; 

[Giving  tlie  gift.} 
And  where  we  departed.     Accept  for  your  own. 

LUNA. 

(Viewing  the  picture.) 

Thrilling  picture  indeed  !     How  rich  to  peruse  ! 
So  perfectly  drawn  in  your  own  native  hues  ; 
It  even  surpasses  your  bow  on  the  cloud  ; 
Of  such  from  your  hand,  I  shall  ever  be  proud. 


186  SOLIS  :    OR,    KING   OF   THE   SUN. 

VENUS. 
(To   Luna.) 

Gentle  Luna,  on  that  memorial  day, 
High  o'er  the  blue  concave,  I  wing'd  my  long  way  ; 
I  stoop'd  in  my  world,  near  the  swell  of  its  sea, 
And  on  folding  my  plumes,  an  image  of  me 
Attracted  my  gaze  —  'twas  a  pearl  in  the  sand. 
I  bent  down,  and  seiz'd  it  with  tremulous  hand  ; 
And  while  I  stood  viewing  the  seeming  design, 
Wild  wonder  chas'd  wonder  along  in  my  mind : 
"  Why  in  this  strange  world,  so  remote  from  the  bounds 
That  had  known  me  before  in  youth's  happy  rounds, 
An  image  so  perfect  of  me  should  be  found  ?  " 
Then  a  look  to  the  sky,  inquiring,  T  gave, 
When  earth  and  your  planet  hung  over  the  wave. 
Long  while  I  stood  gazing,  with  feelings  sublime, 
And  thought  I  could  see  you  the  whole  of  this  time, 
Looking  down  Avith  a  smile  of  complacence  on  mine. 
The  incident  render'd  thee  dearer  to  me, 

[Giving  the  design,'] 
And  for  your  sake,  I  give  the  same  likeness  to  thee. 

LUNA. 

(Looking  intently  at  the  gift.) 

Your  image  most  sure  !     How  correct  to  the  view  ! 
A  representation  most  perfect  of  you  ; 
But  be  not  astonish Yl  —  go  whither  you  will, 
All  things  are  created  with  unerring  skill, 
And  God,  in  his  infinite,  all-wise  design, 
Decreed  such  should  govern  that  planet  of  thine, 
And  stamp'd  the  design  on  a  pearl  of  the  sea, 


SOLIS  :    OR,    KING   OF  THE   SUN.  187 

In  guidance  of  which,  he  created,  then  thee. 

And  here  is  my  own,  which  on  that  same  day, 

I  found  on  a  mound,  in  a  similar  way  ; 

For  gazing  above  me,  there  shone  on  the  sight 

Thy  planet,  all  cloth VI  in  its  radiant  light ; 

When  my  thoughts  soar'd  away,  your  own  by  their  side, 

For  our  thoughts  may  commune,  though  worlds  us  divide. 

(Gives  tlie  gift.) 

Then  receive  from  my  hand,  as  I  have  from  thine  — 
'Twill  serve  thee  more  closely  our  hearts  to  entwine. 

VENUS. 

(Receiving  tlie  gift.) 

I  take,  and  forever  will  treasure  with  care, 
This  emblem  of  yours  so  perfected  and  rare. 

SOLIS. 

My  right  worthy  Archus,  come  near  me,  and  say, 
What  know  you  of  Tellus  ?  is  she  far  away  ? 

ARCHUS. 

O,  no,  noble  father  !  how  could  she  be  far, 
A  twin  sister  to  me,  and  breathes  the  same  air? 
As  when  we  were  infants,  we  oftentimes  lay 
In  the  same  cradle  bed  ;  so,  likewise  to-day, 
Our  possessions  both  meet,  embrace  and  entwine, 
As  in  those  happy  days,  her  arms  did  with  mine  ; 
Then,  likeness  of  mother's  sweet  visage  she  bore  - 
She  doth  still  bear  the  same,  and  will,  evermore. 
I  then  loved  her  for  this  —  that  love  has  now  grown, 
Till  earth  wide  dominions  its  mighty  sway  own  ; 


188  SOLIS  :    OR,    KING   OF  THE   SUN. 

And  if  yon  commanded,  right  quickly  she  'd  come, 
Fleet-wing'd  as  the  morning,  with  us  to  be  one. 

SOLIS. 

(Calling  at  a  distance.) 

Hail,  earth's  fairy  queen  !  in  your  own  we  have  met, 
And  space  in  our  circle  awaits  for  you  yet ; 

0  fill  and  make  perfect,  your  presence  will  light, 
Every  recess  of  soul,  as  sight  speaks  to  sight. 

Enter  TELLUS,  dollied  in  three  principal  colors,  gray,  green  and  blue, 
ornamented  with  others,  and  crowned  to  represent  Earth  in  some 
appropriate  manner 

TELLUS. 

Hail,  most  worthy  father,  and  sisters,  of  old  ! 
How  bless'd  my  dominion,  this  number  to  hold, 
Who  often  have  honor'd  the  courts  of  the  skies, 
Esteemed  and  respected,  as  holy  and  wise, 

1  welcome  you  all  with  pleasure  untold. 

SOLIS,  ARCHUS,  VENUS  and  LUNA. 

(In  concert ) 

We,  thee,  queenly  Tellus,  with  heart  and  with  soul. 

SOLIS. 

(A  lone.) 

Dear  Tellus,  we've  come  from  the  universe  wide, 
And  snatch  a  few  moments  from  time's  crowd'd  tide, 
To  talk  of  the  charges  we  hold  now  in  trust 
From  the  hand  of  our  Father,  Eternal  and  Just ; 
Relate,  worthy  daughter,  what  tidings  from  you, 
So  fitly  apparel'd  in  gray,  green,  and  blue. 


SOLIS  :    OR,    KING   OF  THE   SUN.  189 

TELLUS. 

My  dominion  is  Earth  ;  the  gray  that  I  wear 
Betokens  the  fogs  and  the  clouds  of  the  air  ; 
And  to  the  beholder,  my  vesture  of  green 
Bespeaks  of  the  verdure  that  is  every  where  seen  ; 
And  over  all  these,  is  my  mantle  of  blue, 
In  semblance  of  ocean's  and  sky's  mellow  hue. 

My  earth  in  the  lap  of  great  Nature  doth  lie, 
And  sweet  harmony  folds  with  a  most  holy  tie, 
In  her  arms,  the  old  ocean,  land,  air  and  sky; 
While  stars  without  number  behold  the  embrace, 
And  kiss  with  their  smiles  my  uplifted  face. 
Dear  Archus,  twin  sister,  that  beautiful  queen, 
The  storm  robes  in  splendor,  in  beauty,  the  green  ; 
As  when  in  our  childhood,  one  cradle  contained, 
So  mingled  in  one,  is  our  wide-spread  domain  ; 
We  live  in  sweet  union,  and  blest  evermore, 
By  things  had  in  common  from  great  Nature's  store. 

When  kiss'd  by  thy  smiles,  forever,  as  now, 
Her  spray-woven  banner  is  seen  near  the  prow 
Of  every  proud  vessel  which  ocean  doth  plow, 
And  also,  wide-spread,  on  the  cataract's  brow. 
Ani  when  with  the  rainfall  I  moisten  the  plain, 
Hill,  valley  and  mountain  spread  out  in  my  reign, 
And  thy  sunlight,  approving,  doth  smile  on  the  same, 
Then  her  banner  so  grand  is  held  up  to  view, 
Like  a  wide  arch  of  glory,  of  every  known  hue  ; 
And  all  human  beings  of  every  degree, 
With  full  admiration  and  gratitude  see  — 


190  SOLIS  :    OR,   KING   OF  THE   SUN. 

While  her  most  precious  blossoms  look  up  and  smile 
At  blessings,  those  moments  so  sweetly  beguile. 

And  when  thy  bright  sunset  at  close  of  the  day, 
Just  kisses,  with  blushes  of  crimson,  the  gray, 
Queen  of  Beauty  stands  forth  unveil'd  'mid  the  scene; 
And  the  gazer  is  lost  in  rapture's  wild  dream  — 
Then  an  up-flowing  stream  of  wonder  and  love 
Commune  with  the  spirits  and  angels  above. 
And  then,  when  again  in  the  eastern-bent  sky, 
The  thunder  cloud  holds  its  huge  summits  on  high, 
And,  jagged  edg'd,  valley-like,  deep  in  between, 
Depressions  and  gorges  are  every  where  seen, 
And,  stretching  away,  deep  fold  upon  fold, 
Being  sun-kiss'd,  are  cloth'd  in  crystal  and  gold  ; 
While,  lurking  within,  the  dread  lightning's  display 
Lights  up  its  deep  chambers  more  vivid  than  day ; 
And  it  seems  just  as  though  its  arcades  were  given 
A  stage  to  the  gods  for  the  scenes  of  high  heaven, 
Where  great  concourse  of  angels  witness  display 
Of  Nature's  great  forces,  in  wondrous  way. 

The  land,  air  and  ocean  do  every  where  swarm 
With  creatures  of  every  conceivable  form, 
.  Rejoicing  in  being,  and  show  to  the  mind 
Omnipotent  wisdom  and  all-wise  design. 
And  yet  over  all  these,  worth  more  than  the  whole, 
But  singly  considered,  is  the  human  soul, 
Which  weighs  and  contemplates  the  works  of  our  God, 
Stretch'd  out  in  such  beauty  and  grandeur  abroad, 
And,  drinking  in  glory,  admiration  and  awe, 


SOLIS  :    OR   KING   OF  THE   SUN.  191 

Surveys  with  wild  wonder  his  most  perfect  law, 

And  therefrom,  conclusions  of  high  order  draw. 

That  soul  has  been  bought  with  a  ransom  most  dear  — 

Every  one  that  but  will,  and  come  humbly  near, 

To  the  Savior  Divine,  who  is  able  to  save 

From  pollution  and  sin,  from  death  and  the  grave, 

Is  made  child  of  God  and  heir  of  high  heaven, 

And  life  everlasting  to  him  shall  be  given; 

These,  drinking  in  knowledge  and  wisdom  profound, 

As  endless  eternity  rolls  on  its  round, 

And  being  perfected  by  love  more  and  more, 

Soon  become  the  bright  saints,  we  so  much  adore. 

Thus  wells  up  a  stream,  which  to  heaven  doth  flow, 

Of  life  everlasting,  from  my  world  below. 

The  morals,  and  beauties,  and  grandeurs  described 
Are  indeed  but  the  few,  in  my  varied  world  wide, 
And  I  seem  like  the  boy,  who  on  ocean's  wide  strand, 
Has  pick'd  up  a  pebble  or  two  in  his  hand, 
While  the  deep  hidden  bed,  and  pebble  lined  shore, 
Lie  all  unexplored,  untrodden,  before. 

SOLIS. 

Most  queenly  instructress,  your  wisdom,  I  trow, 
Will  bless  you  forever  where'er  you  may  go; 
And  the  great  moral  gifts  which  you  have  been  given 
Will  glorify  earth,  be  approved  of  in  heaven; 
And  in  each  endeavor  you  have  my  good  will. 

ARCHUS,  VENUS  and  LUNA. 

(In  concert.) 

Ours  also  be  with  you,  each  mission  to  fill. 


192  sons  :  OR,  KING  OF  THE  SUN. 

TELLUS. 

For  this  I  am  grateful,  and  ever  shall  feel 
A  grief  in  your  sorrow,  a  joy,  in  your  weal. 

SOLIS. 

My  dear,  worthy  daughters,  we  now  must  away, 
Our  duties  in  charge,  brook  not  longer  delay  ; 
But  on  our  departure,  before  we  shall  leave, 
This  wish  to  you  all,  allow  me  to  breathe  : 
May  virtue  and  truth  in  each  bosom  bear  sway, 
And  joy  light  within  you  the  brightness  of  day. 

ARCHUS,  VENUS,  LUNA  and   TELLUS. 

(In  concert.) 

Thanks,  most  honored  father  —  may  God  from  above 
Pour  down  in  thy  bosom  rich  streams  of  his  love. 

SOLIS. 

Time  heeds  us  not  —  we  must  hasten  our  flight ; 
So,  good  night  to  all. 

ARCHUS. 
Good  night. 

VENUS. 

Good  night. 
LUNA  and  TELLUS. 

(In  concert.) 

Good  night. 

AND  CURTAIN   FALLS. 


A  HUSBAND'S  LAMENT.  193 


A  DRAMATIC   POEM. 


THE  HUSBAND'S  LAMENT.. 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS. 
HUSBAND. 

WIFE. 

SPIRIT  OP  SARAH,  Sister  to  Husband. 

SPIRIT  OP  LITHA,  another  Sister  to  Husband. 

IN     ONE     SCENE. 
Enter  HUSBA.ND,  poorly  clad. 
HUSBAND. 

Oh  what  is  earth  and  all  its  fairest  toys  ? 

A  dreary  scene,  where  many  tangling  weeds 

Encumber  my  lone  way,  and  venom  wafts 

Upon  each  breeze,  to  poison  all  my  joys. 

Deep  sable  clouds  o'erhang  my  fairest  skies, 

And  quench  life's  noontide  light  in  thickest  gloom, 

In  shades  of  death  and  vapors  from  the  tomb. 

Once  I  had  joys,  and  Hope  hung  out  her  bow 
On  future  scenes,  and  glory  smiled  on  sight, 
While  life  upon  an  easy  axle  roll'd. 

Oh  happy  days  !  say,  whither  have  you  fled  ? 
And  shall  I  never  greet  your  fond  return  ? 
Are  ye  forever  gone  ?     Ah,  yes  ;  and  time, 

N          9 


194  A  HUSBAND'S  LAMENT. 

That  sweeps  the  theater  of  human  life, 
Has  with  remorseless  hand  swept  these  away, 
O'er  whose  dread  ruins  dark  oblivion  rolls, 
Whose  constant  tide  is  rising  every  hour. 

O,  yes  !  — •  once  I  was  fortune's  child  ;  and  joy, 

Aye,  sweet  and  sportive  joy,  arose,  and  with 

Delightful  hand  strew'd  garlands  in  my  way  — 

Smiles  greeted  me  at  every  turn  of  life, 

And  Providence  pour'd  out  an  ample  stream 

Of  blessings  from  above.     But  now,  how  changVl  ! 

Fair  fortune  smiles  no  more,  but,  frowning,  turns 

My  garlands  into  serpents  vile,  which  hiss 

A  cloud  of  moral  pestilence  about ; 

And  that  once  stream  of  blessings  from  above, 

Into  a  howling  cataract  of  care, 

Which  ever  pours  its  rushing  torrents  down 

Into  the  shrieking  soul.     O  cease,  ye  floods  ! 

Ye  angry  waters,  black  with  mud  and  mire, 

And  give  me  but  a  little  moment's  rest, 

Or,  swell  your  waves  to  boiling  seas,  and  quench 

Forever  this  frail  spark  of  life.     But,  no  !  — " 

My  God,  forgive  !     I'm  not  alone  in  this, 

My  misery  !     I  have  a  wife  —  a  wife, 

So  tender,  mild  and  fair,  who  when  I  pledged 

My  heart,  o'er  flowing  with  the  purest  love, 

Gave  to  me  an  angel  smile  of  supreme 

Confidence,  a  sweet  return.     The  rose  then 

Blush'd  upon  her  cheek,  and  blossom'd  in  her  soul. 

I  was  her  pride,  her  hope,  her  inmost  trust : 

In  me  she  lived,  the  fullness  of  my  joys. 


A  HUSBAND'S  LAMENT.  195 

She  knew  me  then  as  one  whom  plenty  crown'd, 

And  on  whom  favoring  fortune  lov'd  to  smile. 

But  now,  how  chang'd  !  — stripped  to  my  very  limbs, 

Gaunt  poverty  howls  round  my  humble  cot, 

And  meager  want  has  mark'd  my  darling  boy; 

And  my  ever  patient  wife  — how  has  she 

Been  rack'd  on  fortune's  wheel,  and  yet  without 

A  groan.     Nor  knows  she  of  the  many  cares 

Which  crush  me  down  to  uttermost  despair, 

The  ever  creaking  pangs  that  have  torn  loose 

My  very  vitals,  and  left  them  streaming  out 

My  life  within  a  cold  November's  wind. 

For  this  deserving  wife  alone  I  live  ; 

Without  the  whom  !  —  O,  beating  heart,  be  still ! 

And  riso,  ye  sods,  and  mantle  me  !     But,  hark  ! 

Footsteps  approach  ;-•—  say,  who  has  heard  these  words, 

Which  I  would  wish  to  hide  ? 

Enter  WIFE,  speaking. 

Thy  wife  hath  heard  ; 

Say,  why  forlorn  ?     Though  plenty  once  bestow'd 
On  us  its  store,  and  now  that  store  withholds. 
Wide  heaven  still  smiles  alike  on  all  —  alike 
Sends  rain  and  sun.     This  morn  —  this  very  morn, 
O,  my  poor  heart  was  blessed  !     While  our  sweet  boy 
Lay  sluiwb'ring  on  his  couch  with  sportive  joys 
Lull'd  in  his  infant  breast,  the  winning  smile 
Sported  with  childish  dreams  upon  his  brow  ; 
Just  then  the  sun  arose,  and  streaming  through 
The  shatter'd  wall,  just  kissed  his  rosy  cheek, 
And  made  more  deep  the  tinge.     The  sight  awoke 


196  A  HUSBAND'S  LAMENT. 

A  secret  thought  within,  and,  thereby,  set 

In  motion  a  long  train  of  kindred  thoughts, 

Which,  rolling  through  my  anxious  breast,  stirr'd  up 

The  deepest  waters  of  the  soul,  and  bade 

My  inmost  heart  rejoice,  and  breathe  out  thanks, 

That  we,  e'en  now,  were  favor'd  thus,  and  blest 

With  light,  a  dear  lov'd,  though  an  humble  home. 

HUSBAND. 

And  yet  what  is  that  home  ?  — a  wind-rent  shed; 
And  that,  though  mean,  is  not  my  own.     Behold 
The  smiling  fields  which  verdur'd  once  for  me, 
A  stranger  holds  ;  and  the  proud  dwelling,once 
That  hung  its  high  arch'd  roof  above  my  head, 
Now  shelters  one  who  hates  me  ;  and  the  ground 
Where  I  was  wont  to  sport  while  yet  a  child, 
Is  trampled  on  by  lawless  feet.     The  world 
Looks  on  and  mocks  my  poverty,     And  you, 
My  fairest  angel,  ne'er  expected  this, 
The  day  you  freely  gave  your  all  to  me, 
And  vow'd  yourself  through  life  my  own  should  be  ; 
The  picture  of  that  life  which  then  we  drew, 
Has  proven  most  deceptive  and  untrue. 

How  can  1  gaze  upon  your  careworn  brow, 
And  wasted  form  (so  neat,  yet  cheaply  clad, 
Once  adorn'd  more  becoming  of  its  worth), 
And  think  that  my  misfortune  is  the  cause 
Of  this  sad  change.     Our  infant  darling  rolls 
On  me  his  sparkling  eyes,  and  seems  to  say, 
"  Whore  is  the  fortune  of  your  sires?  "     I  turn 


A    HUSBAND  S   LAMENT.  15 

Around  and  strangers  ask  me,  "Where"?     My  mind 

Next  seeks  relief  in  gentle  sleep's  repose  ;  . 

A  thousand  troubled  visions  weary  sleep, 

And  coming  morning  finds  me  still  unbless'd  ; 

The  day  but  multiplies  my  woes,  till  care 

On  care  pile  up  themselves  against  the  clouds, 

Whereon  I  plainly  read,  "  Unceasing  toil." 

And  shall  I  clamber  on  ?  or  'neath  this  pile, 

At  sorrow's  base,  within  a  narrow  vault 

Lay  my  weary  bones  to  rest  ? . 

WIFE. 

O,  hush  thee,  man  ! 

Amid  ten  thousand  glories,  these  are  but 
The  glooms.     Roll  back  the  sable  clouds,  and  view 
The  many  stars  conceal'd.     Thy  little  child, 
The  brightest — and  the  benefits  receiv'd, 
The  countless  clusters  scatter'd  here  and  there  ; 
Thy  home,  the  pole-star,  'round  which  all  revolve  — 
All  these  look  down  in  tranquil  loveliness, 
And  angels  smile  amid  the  warring  storms. 

O,  then,  these  gloomy  bodings  cast  aside, 

And  learn,  where  love  and  penitence  exists, 

Themselves  are  happiness  ;  and  as  for  me, 

Thy  mis'ries  make  my  own.     Say  joy  is  thine  — 

It  breathes  alike  in  me  —  want  has  no  share. 

Behold,  a  thousand  varied  duties  call, 

Of  which  high  heaven  approves.     First,  be  resign'd 

To  fate,  let  come  what  will  ;  then  nobly  bless 

Thy  home  with  the  rewards  of  honest  toil, 


1(J8  A  HUSBAND'S  LAMENT. 

And  share  with  me  the  burthen  of  our  cares, 
Which  we  in  penitence  will  mutual  bear, 
And  seek  to  tuna  a  skillful  hand  to  each, 
That  they  may  prove  no  evil,  but  our  good, 
By  teaching  us  to  bear  misfortune's  load, 
And  in  true  meekness,  penitence  and  love, 
Pour  out  our  thanks  for  benefits  received ; 
Though  they  may  seem  to  us  but  few  and  small, 
Let  gratitude  enlarge  the  worth  of  all, 
And  bring  celestial  blossoms  from  above. 

And  even  now,  I  see  a  fairy  form, 

Descending  from  the  sky,  and  shedding  rays 

Of  holy  light  o'er  our  dark  future,  bids 

Our  bosoms  cheer  ;  —  it  stoops  to  earth,  and  now, 

With  gentle  tread,  is  gliding  noiseless  near  ; 

Hail,  spotless  spirit !  what  your  mission  here  ? 

SPIRIT   OF   SARAH. 

Hail,  sweet  consoler,  born  to  bless  and  cheer  I 

HUSBAND. 

Celestial  stranger  !  O  my  heart  relents. 
Why  should  I  thus  complain  ?  —  blind  to  each  boon 
The  hand  of  Providence  has  given  !     Forgive, 
And  thy  instructions  let  me  hear  and  learn. 

SPIRIT   OF    SARAH. 

A  stranger !     Know  me  not,  my  brother  mild  ? 
Thy  sister  Sarah,  once  the  laughing  child, 
Who  sported  oft  with  you  in  childhood  hours, 
When  youthful  transports  gave  to  us  their  powers  ? 


A  HUSBAND'S  LAMENT.  199 

Yourself  was  happy  then,  and  gay  and  free, 
As  you  fantastic  pleasures  chased  with  me  ; 
But  ere  our  youth  was  spent,  Death  in  his  might 
Clogg'd  my  life's  blood,  but  robed  my  soul  in  light. 
And,  O  !  yourself,  how  changed  'twixt  then  and  now  ! 
Why  hangs  that  cloud  of  gloom  about  your  brow  ? 
And  why  despair,  like  a  December's  storm, 
Sweep  howling  through  your  breast  and  vitals  warm  ? 

Has  disappointment  cross'd  your  path  in  life  ? 
Behold  a  recompense  in  her,  your  wife  ! 
Has  want  all  your  gilt  treasures  dar'd  destroy  ? 
Behold,  they  shine  renew'd  in  your  sweet  boy  ! 
Do  seeming  storms  o'er  all  your  future  lower? 
The  darkest  skies  oft  clear  within  an  hour  ! 
Has  death  your  sisters  laid  beneath  the  sand  ?. 
Like  me  they  flourish  in  a  brighter  land  ! 
Have  friends  forsaken,  and  the  path  they  trod  ? 
Look  up,  and  trust  a  more  than  friend,  thy  God  ! 
Has  sin  within  your  bosom  left  a  stain  ? 
A  Savior's  blood  can  wash  it  white  again  ! 
Repent  and  all  your  sins  be  you  forgiven  ! 
Earth  then  is  bright,  and  the  reward,  is  heaven  ! 

HUSBAND. 

<K 

You  ask,  why  changed  ?  why  sadness  shrouds  the  soul  ? 
Behold  the  blank  around  !     Can  I  my  woes  control  ? 
Want  fiercely  frowns  (where  once  fair  plenty  smil'd,) 
And  wastes  the  limbs  of  my  dear  wife  and  child. 
Parents  and  sisters,  all  have  found  a  tomb, 
And  I  alone  grope1  through  this  dismal  gloom, 


A  HUSBAND'S  LAMENT. 

With  but  one  oar  my  fragile  boat  to  steer, 

And  that,  ray  wife,  who  fain  my  heart  would  cheer. 

That  hope  within,  once  blooming  fair  and  free, 

Has  doffed  its  plumes  ;  and  now  a  naked  tree 

Waves  o'er  my  dreary  heart,  and  in  each  blast, 

Moans  o'er  the  crumbling  ruins  of  the  past. 

But  your  reproofs  my  struggling  soul  have  stirr'd, 

And  I  will  try  to  profit  by  your  word. 

But  where  is  Litha,  once  the  laughing  child, 

Who  with  us  sported,  with  us  talk'd  and  smil'd, 

Who  lov'd  us  deeply  ,  and  from  day  to  day 

Grew  fairer,  but  like  thee,  to  pass  away  ? 

SPIRIT  OF  SARAH. 

O  joy-causing  thought !  that  sweet,  happy  girl, 
Now  soars  a  seraph  in  a  brighter  world, 
And  while  her  ashc-s  sleep  beneath  the  sod, 
Sh#  sweeps  angelic  harps  in  praise  of  God. 

HUSBAND. 

O  could  you  not  bid  her  stretch  hither  her  flight  ? 
To  see  that  fair  sister  would  waken  delight, 
Notwithstanding  the  storms  which  hang  o'er  my  soul. 

SPIRIT  OF  SARAH. 

(Galling  to  a  distance) 

My  sweet  sister  spirit,  your  pinions  unfold, 
On  the  breath  of  the  eve,  fleet-wing'd  as  the  light, 
Descend  down  to  earth  —  break  to  human  sight. 
Enter  SPIRIT  OP  LITHA,  dressed  in  white, 
SPIRIT  OF  LITHA. 

Joy  be  unto  all !  and  remember'd,  the  day, 
When  spirits  in  freedom,  greet  spirits,  in  clay. 


A  HUSBAND'S  LAMENT.  201 

HUSBAND. 

Hail,  long  depart'd  !  now  child  of  the  skies  ! 
Yourself  I  see  looking  from  angelic  eyes  — 
The  same  happy  smile,  its  rich  beauty  unfolds, 
Welling  up  in  each  glance  from  the  deep-seated  soul. 

But  since  we  last  parted,  how  chang'd  is  the  day  ! 
Old  time  has  swept  friends  and  fortune  away  ; 
And  life  has  left  bare  of  all  fruitage  and  flowers, 
As  a  desolate  field  in  winter's  bleak  hours  ; 
And  1,  mid  that  field  of  disaster  and  gloom, 
See  no  consolation,  but  in  the  cold  tomb. 

But  to  change  ;  sister  Litha,  this  is  my  wife, 

[Looking  to  his  wife.] 

Is  now  my  sole  soother,  and  comfort  of  life  ; 
I  lov'd  her  because  of  her  likeness  to  thee, 

And  gentle  as  you,  she  has  proven  to  me. 

. « 

SPIRIT  OF  LITHA. 
(To  wife.) 

Sweet  wishes,  dear  sister  ;  how  oft  from  above, 

IVe  look'd  down  upon  you,  and  breath'd  out  my  love. 

WIFE. 

Most  welcome,  celestial !  —  may  truth  from  her  throne 
Smile  ever  upon  you,  and  claim  you  her  own. 

HUSBAND. 

Fair  seraph  !  I'm  longing  your  history  to  know, 
Since  you  took  a  farewell  of  this  region  below  ; 


202  A  HUSBAND'S  LAMENT. 

When  the  unfeeling  grave  unloaded  your  bier, 
And  we  drew  the  long  sigh,  and  wept  the  sad  tear. 

SPIRIT  OF  LITHA. 

O,  yes  !  brother,  well  I  remember  that  day, 
When  spirit  forsook  that  encumbersome  clay  ; 
Recent  freed  from  the  toils  of  anguish  and  care, 
On  the  fleet  wings  of  love,  I  soar'd  through  the  air  ; 
On  the  one  hand  was  earth,  with  mountain  and  plain, 
On  the  other,  lay  rolling  th'  deep-heaving  main. 
There,  gardens  and  forests  enchanted  the  sight ! 
Here,  waves,  like  the  Andes,  dash'd  on  in  their  might. 
Two  worlds  seem'd  expanded,  and  laid  side  by  side, 
The  land,  in  its  beauty,  the  sea,  in  its  pride  ! 
While  the  mountains  of  one  seem'd  propping  the  sky, 
And  the  voice  of  the  other  with  the  thunder  to  vie, 
I  read  over  both,  in  line  of  great  light, 

O  O 

By  the  path  of  the  lightning,  zizzag  and  bright, 
"  God  reigns  over  all  in  his  Love  and  his  might." 

C-5  O 

Then  I  was  caught  up  as  it  were  in  a  trance , 
And  heaven  I  saw,  reveal'd  at  a  glance. 
But  collecting  myself,  I  took  the  last  gaze 
Of  earth's  winding  scenes,  and  of  youth's  happy  days 
Then  extended  my  plumes  of  faith  and  of  love, 
Which  bore  me  instinctive  to  regions  above. 
As  if  wing'd  by  the  light,  right  onward  I  flew, 
More  splendid  the  prospect  continually  grew  ; 
Vast  suns,  with  their  systems,  lay  sweeping  around 
The  throne  of  Jehovah,  their  center  profound. 
In  such  beauty  serene  each  planet  was  wreath'd, 
No  fancy  can  picture,  or  mind  can  conceive. 


A  HUSBAND'S  LAMENT.  203 

Soon,  in  the  dim  distance,  there  broke  on  the  sight, 
Faint  emissions  from  one  of  far  purer  light, 
Which,  on  rapid  approach,  extended  its  line, 
And  greater  soon  prov'd  than  all  others  combin'd  ; 
And  as  it  expand'd  in  grandeur  abroad, 
I  saw  thereon  written,  "The  Throne  of  Great  God."" 

Bearing  thither  my  flight,  very  soon  was  I  given 
From  th'  arms  or  wide  space  to  the  fair  lap  of  heaven, 
Whose  grandeur  can  never  be  pictured  below, 
But  "The  Word"  has  been  given,  'tis  all  you  should 

know. 

Ever  here  have  I  been  since  death  claim'd  his  sway, 
Or  viewing  God's  worlds  as  they  roll  on  their  way. 

May  peace,  then,  be  with  you,  by  penitence  bless'd, 
And  time  will  soon  waft  you  to  regions  of  rest. 

HUSBAND. 

My  thanks,  spotless  sister  ;  I'll  strive  with  my  might, 
And  hope  soon  to  greet  you  in  that  World  of  Light. 

ALL  IN  CONCERT. 

O  happy  the  thought  —  blissful  heaven  our  home  — 
Join'd  forever  in  love,  o'er  creation  to  roam. 

SPIRIT   OF   LITHA. 

E'en  now,  sister  spirit,  fair  angels  on  high 
Await  our  return  —  thither,  then,  let  us  fly. 

» 

SPIRIT  OF  SARAH. 

Yes,  of  this  I'm  aware  ;  but  ere  we  retire, 


204  A  HUSBAND'S  LAMENT. 

[To  Husband  and  Wife.] 

I  bid  your  hearts  cheer  —  pure  be  your  desire, 
And  soon  we'll  assemble,  where  woes  never  come, 
"  Forever  to  smile  in  a  heavenly  home." 

SPIRITS. 
(Siny  in  concert.) 
Away,  then,  we  must  sever, 

To  our  homes  above  Ave'll  fly, 
But  part  we  not  forever, 

We  meet  again,  good  bye  ! 

We  meet  again,  good-bye  ! 

And  till  that  time,  good-bye. 

WIFE. 

(Sings  in  reply.) 

Fair  Seraphs,  O  we  love  you, 

And  would  prolong  this  spell, 
But  angels  smile  above  you, 

'Tis  there  we  meet,  farewell  ! 
'Tis  there  we  meet,  farewell  ! 
And  till  that  time,  farewell  ! 

CURTAIN   FALLS   AND   SCENE   CLOSES. 


SMITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE   FORGIVEN   MURDER.          205 


SMITHFIELD:   OR,  THE  FORGIVEN  MURDER. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS. 

Men, 

SMITHFIELD,  the  Murderer. 
MORELAND,  the  Murdered. 
HAMBURG,  Brother  to  Moreland. 
Two  ATTENDANTS  ON  SMITHFIELD. 
Two  ATTENDANTS  ox  HAMBURG. 
THREE  WITNESSES  TO  DUEL. 

Women. 

DIANNAH,  Sister  to  Hamburg,  and  Wife  of  Smithfield. 
SPIRIT  OF  DILAH,  former  Sister  to  Diannah. 
SPIRIT  OF  SILVA  former  Sister  to  Diaimah. 
SPIRIT  OF  CRETIA,  former  Sister  to  Diannah. 

SCENE     FIRST. 

A  room  dimly  lighted,  in  which  MORELAND  is  seated,  icilh  his  head 
leaned  forward,  and  his  face  between  his  hands,  in  a  deep  cogitating 
nanner,  and  unobservant  of  things  passing  about  him. 

SMITHFIELD  slily  enters,  and  with  a  concealed  weapon,  stabs  him  in  the 
back,  and  drags  MoRELAND's/a^feft  body  from  the  room. 


[Curtain  falls.'} 

SCENE     SECOND. 

A  solitary  place  and  almost  darkness.     Enter  SMITHFIELD,  pacing  the 
stage  to  and  fro,  in  a  restless  and  uneasy  manner. 

SMITHFIELD. 

(Soliloquising.) 

And  now  my  thirsty  soul  has  drank  revenge  ! 
My  eager  knife  pierced  through  the  very  heart 


206          SMITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE    FORGIVEN    MURDER. 

Of  him  who  hath  so  deeply  injured  me, 
And  from  the  wound  now  gurgles  his  life  blood  ! 
Revenge  is  quenched  !     But  what  says  conscience  now  ? 
That  still,  small  voice  is  whispering  keen  reproof. 

The  stench  arising  from  this  awful  deed, 
Calls  forth  a  thousand  spectres  from  the  grave, 
Who  frown  dark,  wrathful  terrors  on  my  soul; 
Which,  tortur'd,  reels  and  shrinks  abash'd  away  ; 
A  vaunt,  ye  spectres  grim  !  these  haunts  forbear  ! 
So  arm'd  with  treble  terrors  from  the  tomb  ! 

Shame  shakes  a  storm  of  poison'd  arrows  down, 
W«hich  arrows  thickly  pierce  my  vital  parts, 
And  from  each  wound  spirts  out  an  angry  stream 
Of  moral  pain,  which,  mingling,  all  conjoin 
To  swell  a  raging  torrent,  coursing  to'ard 
The  seat  of  life.     It  sweeps  the  fairy  fields 
Of  peace,  bearing  each  plant  and  flower  away, 
And  strews  about  disjointed  rocks  and  stones  ; 
And,  rushing  on,  pours  down  its  inky  mass 
Into  the  guilty  caverns  of  the  soul. 
From  which  there  rises  up  a  blacken'd  mist, 
And  shrouds  my  sun  of  purity  in  gloom. 
No  rainbow  arches  it ;  but  one  hoarse  roar 
Shakes  its  eternal  thunders  in  my  ears, 
And  seems  to  call  on  justice  to  alight, 
And  deal  out  death  to  me,  as  I  have  dealt. 

Yes,  I  have  murdered  him,  my  worst  of  foes  ! 
And  with  him  murder'd,  too,  my  future  joys, 


SMITHFIELD  :    OR.   THE    FORGIVEN    ML'KDKtt.          207 

And  my  contentment  buried  in  the  grave. 
Guilt,  serpent-like,  lies  coil'd  within  my  breast   - 
Drinks  in  each  pleasure,  and  each  hope  consumes, 
And  with  its  venom  freights  my  every  breath  ; 
And  while,  deep  down,  the  monster  lurks  conceal'd, 
Within  my  eyes  he  wipes  his  hissing  mouth, 
And,  in  each  look,  vibrates  his  trifork'd  tongue. 
And  is  the  world  so  blind  as  not  to  mark 
This  hellish  demon  out  ?     Oh,  filthy  breast ! 
This  slimy  load  you  bear  is  worse  than  death, 
And  all  the  horrors  hanging  in  the  tomb. 

• 
Come,  then,  great  terminater  of  mankind, 

And  crush  me  !     But,  oh  !  death  ends  not  the  scene  ; 

Eternity  draws  back  its  curtain, 

And  I  see  beyond  the  grave  —  see  there  the  sea 

Of  liquid  woe,  where  angry  furies  rage, 

And  torments  drive  their  tempests  howling  o'er 

Those  ghostly  billows,  surging  mountain  high  ; 

Where  Avreck  encounters  wreck,  with  groaning  crash, 

And  misery  looks  on  misery  hollow  eyed. 

And  there  I  view  —  ah,  me  !  — What  can  k  be  ? 

A  furiated  form  of  monster  mould  ! 

While  heinous  serpents  form  its  tangling  hair, 

What  fearful  looks  leap  from  its  hollow  eyes  ! 

And  its  right  arm,  like  some  yawning  monster, 

Grasps  a  whip  of  scorpions,  huge  and  dire, 

And  with  it  beats  those  waves  to  crimson  foam, 

And  writes  thereon  a  name  to  be  abhorr'd  : 

"Torn  Conscience  Stings,  and  Source  of  Endless  Woe." 


208          SMITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE    FORGIVEN    MURDER. 

Behold  the  very  victim,  bleeding  there, 

That  these  vile,  wanton  hands  have  meanly  slain  ; 

And  the  fresh  vital  current  flowing  from 

The  wound,  pours  down  into  the  greedy  maw 

Of  this  tormentor,  waking  wrath  anew. 

O  Time  !  —  O  Eternity  !  —  for  me  what  rest  ? 

But,  hark  !  I  am  pursued  !     Flight,  hurried  flight, 
Is  my  sole  refuge  now,  and  that  a  barque, 
A  fragile  barque,  with  neither  mast  or  sail, 
Amid  dire  waves  torn  by  the  whirlwind's  rage. 

[Hie  starts  from  the  stage,  looking  back  as  if  for  some  one  in  pursuit, 
then  stops  and  gazes  anxiously  about.} 

But,  hold  !  I  am  detected  ! 

[Starts  back  to  the  stage  and  snatches  up  a  knife  wftich  he  Jias  dropped 
in  the  first  scene,  and  which  is  yet  stained  with  the  blood  of  More- 
land,  looking  at  it.] 

Curse  this  knife  ! 

[Conceals  it  in  his  garment.] 

Hide  there,  thou  heinous  thing.     I'll  meet  him  bold. 
Enter  HAMBURG,  quickly. 

HAMBURG. 

Your  reckless  hand  has  spilt  my  brother's  blood  ; 

Life  scarce  as  yet  has  fled  the  struggling  frame  — 

The  guilty  must  be  near,  and  only  you 

Fill  this  requirement  due.     My  own  strong  hand, 

And  the  law,  and  deep  revenge  are  on  you  ; 

For  life  spilt  out  from  one  so  dear. 

Then,  villain,  yield,  or  feel  this  ready  blade. 


SMITHFIELD  I    OR,  THE   FORGIVEN   MURDER.          209 
SMITHFIELD. 

Avaunt !  audacious  insolence  !  nor  dare 
To  trespass  thus  on  spotless  innocence, 
Lest  the  fatal  contents  of  this  weapon 

(Showing  a  pistol) 

Send  your  guilty  spirit  to  the  gloomy  shade. 
Hence,  you  worse  than  Cain  !  for  he  accused  not 
Another  of  his  crime,  but  bore  his  guilt 
Alone  ;  yet  he  escaped  not  punishment, 
And  you  will  not,  for  similar  offense. 

HAMBURG. 

Do  you  insinuate  that  I  have  done 

This  wrong?     Get  you  away,  and  choose  your  arms. 

Your  right  hand  man  —  and  all  things  else  prepare, 

And   meet  me  here  one  half  hour  from  this  time, 

To  spill  this  life  of  mine,  which  yours  doth  hate, 

Or  have  your  cursed  own  spilt  out  by  me  ; 

Then  we  shall  see  who  answers  for  this  crime. 

SMITHFIELD. 
(Showing  a  pistol.) 

I  will,  and  this  the  weapon  which  I  choose  ; 
But  think  you  not  a  second  murder  to 
Perform,  but  come  yourself  prepared  to  die. 

[Exeunt 
O  9* 


210          SMITIIFIELD  :    OR.    THE    FORGIVEN    MURDER. 


SCENE      THIRD  . 

A  solitary  place,  with  the  same  surroundings  as  above.  Enter  DIANNAII. 
pacing  to  and  fro  excitedly. 

DIANNAH. 

(Soliloquising.) 

Alas,  what  sorrow  I  am  doom'd  to  see ! 
What  have  I  witness VI  ?     What  is  fate's  decree  ? 
One  brother  in  the  arms  of  death  lies  low, 
Slain  by  the  hand  of  some  malignant  foe  ; 
The  other  one,  prepares,  perhaps,  to  bleed, 
And  vainly,  to  avenge  this  dark,  dark  deed  ; 
And  oft  may  my  grieved  spirits,  stung  with  pain, 
Call  for  revenge  for  both,  and  call  in  vain.     . 

Oh,  this  deep  ocean,  rolling  in  my  breast ! 

Which  surges  on,  and  never  is  at  rest ! 

Late  crossed  hflove —  the  nuptials  had  been  join'd, 

But  disapproved  by  these  once  brothers  kind, 

Though  now  they  scoff,  I'm  still  their  warmest  friend  — 

Bear  witness,  heaven,  and  angels  bright  attend  ; 

Bleeds  not  for  them  my  inmost  breathing  soul  ? 

And  all  its  feelings  under  their  control  ? 

Ye  powers  refulgent,  look  from  heaven  and  smile, 

And,  oh  !  this  wounded  bosom  reconcile 

To  the  one  brother,  who  as  yet  remains, 

Heal  up  these  wounds,  and  soothe  these  aching  pains. 

Say  who  the  murderer  of  this  brother  dead, 

And  right  his  wrongs,  though  he  has  cursed  this  head. 


SMITHFIELD  .    OK,  THE    FORGIVEN   MURDER.          211 

Sweet  sister  spirits,  in  whom  once  I  joy'd, 

Ere  death,  with  wanton  hand,  each  tie  destroy'd  ; 

If  still  you  live,  from  your  bright  home  above, 

Descend  to  me  on  the  soft  wings  of  love, 

And  with  mild  hand  each  darken'd  doubt  unroll  — 

Reveal  the  guilty,  and  release  my  soul. 

Enter  SPIRITS  OF  DILAH,  SILVA  and  CRETIA,  following  in  train. 

DILAH,   SILVA    and   CRETIA. 

(In  concert.) 

Hail,  sorrowing  sister  !  peace  thy  portion  be  — 
We  come  to  lighten  toil,  thy  sisters  three. 

DIANNAH 

Whom  do  I  view  ?     How  heighten'd  are  those  charms  ! 
My  Dilah  fair,  O  give  thee  to  my  arms. 

[Attempting  to  embrace  tier.] 

DILAH. 

(Retreating  from  the  attempt.) 
O  clasp  me  not  with  arms  of  vital  clay  ! 
Not  to  the  touch  I  come  !  —  away  !  away  ! 
To  sight  and  mind  our  mission  would  be  given  ; 
For  these,  and  only  these,  have  we  forsaken  heaven  — 
Forbear  and  let  us  spend  the  precious  while, 
By  interchange  of  feelings,  thoughts  and  smiles. 

DIANNAH. 

Welcome,  Silva  !  your  presence  bless  the  hours. 

SILVA. 
My  thanks  be  yours,  and  heaven's  genial  powers. 


212       SMITH-FIELD:  OR,  THE  FORGIVEN  MURDER. 

DIANNAH. 
And  Cretia,  too,  your  smiles,  an  angel  grace. 

CRETIA. 
If  but  reflected  from  your  heavenly  face. 

DIANNAH. 

My  sister  spirits,  in  a  happier  day, 

You  gave  me  counsel,  and  indulged  my  play  ; 

I  was  the  youngest  of  our  sister  band  ; 

You  prais'd  my  little  deeds,  and  skill'd  this  hand. 

And  when  to  riper  years  my  powers  had  grown, 

And  reason  more  securely  held  her  throne, 

We  gladly  conversed  on  each  favor'd  theme, 

And  joy  roll'd  on  the  hours.     But  as  a  dream. 

These  days  —  these  happy  days  —  forever  fled. 

And  those  of  pain  and  sorrow,  came  instead. 

In  three  short  weeks,  death  claim'd  you  all  his  own, 
And  me,  your  weeping  sister,  left  alone  ; 
Long  nights  I  wept,  and  mourn'd  the  untold  loss. 
And  count'd  earthly  treasures  all  as  dross. 

At  length,  when  time  had  scarrd  the  deep  made  wound, 

A  substitute  for  you  I  deem'd  I'd  found, 

In  one  whom  I  had  trusted  all  my  heart, 

But  friends  and  brothers  play'd  the  hostile  part 

With  him  whom  I  had  cherish'd  more  than  friend, 

And  vovv'd  that  such  relations,  all  should  end  ; 

This  Cupid  rous'd,  who,  with  uplifted  arms, 

Call'd  on  Venus,  who  increas'd  his  charms, 


SMITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE   FORGIVEN   MURDER.          213 

This,  victory  gave  his  ever  artful  power, 

And  Hymen  crown'd  his  triumph  from  that  hour. 

A  few  short  months,  their  happy  course  have  sped  — 

And  now  what  follows  ?  —  see,  one  brother  dead, 

And  the  red  current  from  the  ghastly  wound, 

Gluts  the  vile  worm,  and  feeds  the  hungry  ground  ; 

The  other,  to  avenge  his  wasted  life, 

Ere  long  meets  here  his  foe  in  fatal  strife  ; 

The  foe,  suspected  guilty,  yet  unknown, 

Seeking  his  life,  in  danger  of  his  own  — 

I  heard  the  challenge  —  a  short  time  sees  the  deed, 

And  who  can  say  which  one  is  doom'd  to  bleed  ? 

From  heaven-mission'd,  O  exert  your  power  — 
Avert  the  storm  of  this  ill-fated  hour, 
And  change  this  scene  of  discord  into  love, 
Endu'd  with  holy  feelings  from  above. 

DILAH. 

Diannah  fair,  your  ever  noble  soul 

Merits  the  light  of  heaven  ;  we  would  console 

Your  downcast  spirit  —  be  you  ever  cheer'd  — 

All  shall  be  well,  and  you  to  all  endear d. 

These  hostile  acts,  subversive  of  all  joy, 

Shall  change  to  love,  and  love  without  alloy  ; 

The  murderer  shall  be  known,  and  be  forgiven, 

And  reconcil'd  to  you,  to  God,  to  heaven. 

Though  darkest  storms  hang  threat'ning  in  your  sky, 

The  morrow  spreads  her  fairest  blue  on  high, 

And  joy  and  peace,  with  all  their  heaven-born  charms, 

Shall  fold  you,  smiling,  in  their  quiet  arms. 


2 14          SMITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE    FORGIVEN    MURDER. 
DIANNAH. 

O,  sister,  ever  worthy,  ever  dear, 

'Tis  yours  to  bless,  and  yours,  the  griev'd,  to  cheer. 

I  knew  you  once,  as  generous  as  now, 

But  with  less  power  to  bid  your  blessings  flow. 

Your  wings  from  grief  shall  shelter  me,  I  trow, 

And  your  bless'd  arms  shall  stem  the  tide  of  woe; 

And  all  my  wrongs,  by  right  shall  overthrow 

With  means  which  mortal  powers  can  never  know. 

And,  Silva,  say,  what  do  you  bring  to  me, 
In  th'  fullness  of  your  heart  and  bosom  free  2 

SILVA. 

I  have  sued  Great  Mercy's  seat, 
To  lay  his  blessings  at  your  feet, 
Whose  genial  showers  are  gathering  now, 
To  bathe  with  balm  your  fever'd  brow. 
The  sweets  of  life  will  soon  be  thine, 
Brought  in  the  arms  of  love,  and  mine; 
Your  pathway  strewn  with  pleasure's  flowers, 
Cull'd  by  affection's  hands,  and  ours; 
Approving  spirits,  the  meanwhile, 
Hand  down  to  you  the  hopeful  smile, 
Which  as  a  wreath  your  brow  shall  wear, 
Instead  of  this  dark  cloud  of  care. 
These  are  the  blessings  I  have  brought, 
By  earnest  supplication  wrought, 
And  thus  your  welfare  I  have  sought. 


SMITHFIKLD  :    OR,  THK    FORGIVEN    MURDER.          215 
DIANNAH. 

Thanks,  sister  dear,  ere  snapp'd  life's  vital  chain, 
One  toy  house  serv'd  us,  and  one  bed  contain'd; 
E'en  then,  your  cheerful  spirit  ever  bright, 
Made  all  things  laugh  about  you  with  delight; 
And  still  I  view  those  same  refulgent  eyes, 
Touch'd  by  the  star-lit  glories  of  the  skies, 
With  power  to  shed  their  care-dispelling  rays 
Of  moral  light  o'er  all  my  future  ways; 
And  gives  me  promis'd  light  of  joy  and  cheer, 
Where  dark  despair  sat  gloomy,  cold  and  drear. 

But,  Cretia,  I  see  the  crimson  on  your  cheek 
Blush  innocence,  and  your  mouth  long  to  speak  ; 
Speak,  and  reveal  what  is  your  mind's  desire  — 
Say  what  emotions  pure  your  bosom  fire  — 
The  music  of  your  voice  was  wont  to  charm. 
And  each  malignant  feeling  all  unarm. 


* 

CRETIA. 


In  times  just  flown,  my  dear,  I've  heard  your  prayers, 
Saw  your  breast  burthen'd  with  increasing  cares  ; 
Of  stormy  woes  I  strove  to  quell  the  wrath, 
And  hung  a  gilded  rainbow  o'er  your  path, 
But  like  the  rainbow  of  the  rising  morn, 
Twas  pillow'd  on  a  dark,  approaching  storm. 
To-day,  that  storm  has  broke  upon  your  head  ; 
Though  shortly  hush'd,  not  all  its  wrath  is  sped  — 
'Twill  burst  anew,  with  darkness  in  its  frown, 
Pouring  thick  pain,  and  double  anguish  down  ; 
But  calm  you,  and  lift  up  your  eyes  meanwhile  — 


216          SMITHFIELD  I    OR,  THE    FORGIVEN   MURDER. 

Here,  rolls  the  tempest,  there,  the  heavens  smile, 
The  storm  cloud  passes  soon,  and  clears  away, 
And  'merging  from  that  cloud,  the  king  of  day 
Laughs  from  above  in  floods  of  cheerful  light, 
To  chase  from  out  your  soul  the  shades  of  night ; 
But  he  at  last  will,  'neath  the  hills  decline, 
But  countless  stars  of  joy,  no  less  divine, 
Shall  deck  your  skies,  and  in  his  absence  shine, 
Till  death's  cold  sleep  shall  with  a  welcome  hand, 
Bear  off  your  spirit  to  a  brighter  land  ; 
For  this,  I've  supplicated  heaven's  throne, 
For  this,  received   consent  —  this,  be  your  own. 

DIANNAH. 

Receive  my  gratitude,  my  sister  bright  — 
Heaven  sheds  on  you  its  own  superior  light ; 
'Twas  yours  to  lighten  grief  while  yet  a  child, 
By  earnest  prayer  to  bring  down  heaven's  smile, 
And  Silva's,  then,  to  crown  fair  pleasure's  bowl, 
With  all  the  fullness  of  her  cheerful  soul  ; 
,  And  Dilah,  always  doing  as  she  should, 
Then  sought  to  turn  each  action  for  my  good. 

The  same  bright  gifts  your  bosoms  now  adorn, 
With  greater  skill  to  quell  each  rising  storm  ; 
Thy  gift  of  prayer  to  me,  then,  seem'd  to  be 
.  To  heaven's  mercy  gate  the  very  key  ; 
That  gift  has  grown,  as  ripen'd  you  in  grace, 
Till  all  its  fullness  shines  within  your  face. 
And  Silwt,  now,  as  then,  her  hands  employ, 
To  light,  with  touch  divine,  the  torch  of  joy  ; 


SMITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE   FORGIVEN    MURDER.  217 

And  Dilah,  ever  faithful  to  her  trust, 
Still  strives  to  change  the  bad  to  good  and  just, 
With  purer  heart  and  greater  power  to  swell, 
The  tide  that  shapes  each  counter-current  well. 

O,  those  bright,  sunny  days,  forever  flown  ! 
When  we  were  as  a  band  of  sisters  known  — 
O,  how  I  long  to  wing  myself  on  high, 
With  you,  to  join  your  counsels  in  the  sky. 

But,  hark  !  e'en  now,  they  come,  prepared  for  fight, 
Madness  their  hearts  control,  and  fires  their  sight ; 
From  heaven  missioned,  this  dark  storm  assuage, 
Quell  their  hearts'  hatred,  and  dispel  their  rage. 

Enter  with  his  seconds,  hastily, 
HAMBURG. 

Why  —  say,  rebellious  sister  — •  here  this  nour  ? 
The  deeds  soon  here  to  be  performed  ill  fit 
A  woman's  eyes.     Who  else  attends  ?     What  guests 
Are  these  ?  whose  miens  and  forms  bespeak  of  worth 
III  fitting  you,  regardless  of  all  shame. 

DILAH. 

[To  Hamburg.] 

Cease  such  reproach,  proud  brother,  and  that  sneer. 
How  thou  art  chang'd  !  with  what  disgust  I  hear  ; 
Not  so  in  other  days,  when  we  once  fed 
Around  one  common  table  —  then  instead 
Of  such  rebuke,  unruffled  mildness  flow'd 
From  your  then  youthful  lip.s.  and  your  eyes  glow'd 

10 


218          SMITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE   FORGIVEN   MURDER. 

With  virtue's  fires  ;  and  on  your  brow  the  blaze 

Of  rising  wisdom  nobly  sat ;  we  gazed, 

And  heard  your  words  with  more  than  sisters'  due  — 

And  merits  she  for  this,  insults  from  you  ? 

O,  say  !  where  is  your  sense  of  manhood  gone, 

Which  once  we  sisters  proudly  gaz'd  upon  ? 

And  all  those  manly  traits  we  loved  to  own  ? 

Have  they  from  you  away  forever  flown  ? 

O,  with  that  flame,  your  bosom  fire  anew, 

And  greet  us,  brother,  as  you  used  to  do. 

HAMBURG. 

What !  these,  my  sisters,  that  long  since  have  died? 
O,  where  the  triumphs  of  the  tomb  to  hide 
The  mouldering  dead  ?     Or,  what  unlocks  the  skies, 
And  bids  the  deathless  forms  before  me  rise  ? 
Such  spotless  beauty  ne'er  has  mortals  bore, 
[Enter  SMITHFIELD,  with  seconds  ] 

A  flame  from  the  same  spark  that  oft  before 
I've  proudly  view'd. 

[Enter  three  witnesses.'] 

SMITHFIELD. 

[To  Hamburg,  abruptly.} 

Let  conversation  cease, 

Now,  time  admits  you  not  to  make  your  peace 
With  heaven  —  death  stoops  to  close  your  shameful  day. 
And  demons  rise  to  meet  your  soul  half  way. 
TV  appointed  moments  for  revenge  draw  nigh  ; 
For  these  prepare  —  but  with  those  moments,  die. 


SMITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE   FORGIVEN    MURDER.          219 
HAMBURG. 

I  am  prepar'd,  and  with  this  weapon  bold, 

[Showing  a  pistol.] 
To  hell's  wide  gulf  will  add  one  wailing  soul. 

[Dianiiah  quickly  forces  Jier self  between  them.] 
DIANNAH. 

O  cease  this  feud  !  what  shame  for  heaven  to  view  - 
A  scene  like  this  twixt  any  mortal  two  ! 

[To  Hamburg.] 

But,  brother,  if  you  disregard  my  plea, 
Look  on  yon  corse  —  look  on  this  deathless  three  ; 
These,  breathing  kind  reproofs,  now  say,  forbear  ; 
That,  rising  from  the  shade,  "  Beware  !  Beware  !  " 

[To  Smithfield,  in  surprise.'] 
And  stands  my  husband,  party  to  a  cause 
Like  this  ?  —  yourself  be,  and  one  moment  pause  ! 
Was  it  for  this  that  I  forsook  my  all, " 
And  gave  it  unto  you?     O  what  a  pall 
Hangs  o'er  my  dreary  heart !  —  shuts  out  the  light, 
While  deeper  down,  amid  the  darkest  night, 
Care  wars  with  care,  and  woe  with  deeper  woe, 
And  blind  to  pain,  stride  madly  to  and  fro. 
O  these  detested  broils  !  —  why  can't  they  cease  ? 
Choke  anger  down,  and  breathe  the  balm  of  peace  ; 
Say  to  your  inward  rage,  "  Forbear  to  burn." 
Look  in  thy  heart  —  if  there,  the  fault,  discern  ; 
Or,  if  in  his,  lift  up  your  voice  to  heaven, 
For  pardon  sue,  or,  him  to  be  forgiven. 
Revenge,  if  for  revenge  you  Would  prolong  ; 
You  heap  but  crime  on  crime,  and  wrong  on  wrong, 


220          SMITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE   FORGIVEN   MURDER. 

And  the  dread  scene  shall  dark  and  darker  grow, 
Till  justice  stoops,  and  deals  the  fatal  blow  ; 
Then,  quite  too  late,  your  plea  will  be  denied  ; 
Consider,  then,  and  quell  this  shameful  pride. 

SMITHFIELD. 

[Drawing  her  to  one  side,] 

Aside,  my  dear  one,  urge  me  not  to  shame, 
He  gave  the  challenge ;  why  should  I  refrain  ? 

[To  Hamburg.] 

Then,  forward  straight,  and  fill  your  curs'd  desire  ; 
The  signal  now  be  given. 

FIRST  WITNESS. 

One,  two,  three  —  Fire  ! 
[Both  fire  at  once,  Diannah  rushing  between  them  and  receives  a  won  nd.  ] 

DIANNAH. 

Oh,  Will !  your  ball  has  drank  my  blood  —  the  smart 
I  feel  —  would  it  had  pierced  my  very  heart ! 
How  dark  it  grows  !     O  that  pale  death  would  rise 
And  veil  these  scenes  from  my  disgusted  eyes. 

SMITHFIELD. 

[To  Diannah.] 

Diannah,  let  me  bind  the  bleeding  wound, 
For  now,  till  a  more  skillful  hand  be  found. 

[Binds  flie  wound  with  a  white  handkerchief.] 

DIANNAH. 

[To  Hamburg.] 
O,  brother  !  if  that  name  was  ever  dear, 


SMITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE   FORGIVEN   MURDER.          221 

Or,  if  a  sister's  voice  can  reach  your  ear, 

Hear  this,  my  earnest  prayer  :  Be  yours  the  fault  — 

Confess  it  here.     Confession  will  exalt 

You  in  the  sight  of  heaven,  and  all  mankind  ; 

But  kept  lock'd  up,  will  drive  you  mad  and  blind 

To  condemnation  and  your  own  disgrace, 

Which  neither  time  nor  fortune  can  efface. 

Then,  ere  you  leap  the  cataract  thundering  near, 

Turn  from  your  froward  course,  and  shoreward  steer. 

[To  Smithfield.] 

And,  consort,  thou,  if  this,  now  sever'd  vein, 
Pouring  my  life  away,  doth  cause  you  pain, 
And  from  your  bosom,  force  a  secret  sigh  — 
Or,  if  you  'd  drop  one  tear  to  see  me  die  — 
If  e'er  you  lov'd,  and  do  not  now  despise, 
Be  wise  to-day,  say  where  the  error  lies, 
The  secret  knowledge  of  your  breast  unfold  — 
Guilty  or  not,  speak  out  without  control. 
Perhaps  a  stranger  hand  the  wrong  has  done, 
While  these  serve  as  a  veil  to  shut  the  sun 
From  his  retreating  path,  screen  him  from  view, 
That  he  may  better  flee  the  vengeance  due. 

0  cease,  against  all  right  thus  to  rebel  - 
The  shame  of  heaven,  and  the  sport  of  hell. 

SMITHFIELD. 

1  stand  reprov'd  —  I  would  I  had  before  — 
Torn  is  my  bosom,  bleeding,  my  heart's  core, 
Provok'd  to  anger,  anger,  guilt  unroll'd, 
Which  as  a  cloud  now  hangs  above  my  soul, 
Whose  thunders  roll  and  lightnings  flash  around, 


222          8MITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE   FORGIVEN   MTJRDEE. 

And  each  sped  bolt  strikes  still  a  deeper  wound  ; 
I  turn  to  flee,  when,  lo  !  death  foaming  wide, 
Rolls  it  dread  torrent  on  the  other  side. 
What  shall  I  do  !     Shall  I  my  guilt  conceal  ? 
Reproving  voices  here  whisper,  "  Reveal  !  " 
I  will,  for  pain'd  with  guilty  conscience's  stings, 
What  joys  ?  what  pleasures  can  existence  bring  ? 
Then  I  speak,  though  the  forfeiture  be  death, 
But  may  God  pardon  when  is  hush'd  my  breath. 

Hear  ye  then  me,  but  censure  not  too  strong, 

And  while  you  weigh  the  crime,  weigh  too  the  wrong. 

I  did  the  murder  of  this  lifeless  man  ; 

This  heart  has  will'd  it,  and  perform'd,  this  hand, 

While  both  these  eyes  witness'd  the  very  same, 

And  these  ears  heard  the  groans  I  dare  not  name  ; 

And  the  blood-written  record  is  within, 

Of  this  abhorr'd  and  most  detested  sin. 

Yet  this  deed  had  a  cause.     Not  only  he 

Oppos'd  the  union  you  desired  with  me, 

But  when  he  saw  his  each  foul  means  had  fail'd, 

He,  with  a  double  battery  assail'd 

Our  character,  our  fortune,  and  our  fame, 

And  laid  the  plan  whereby  to  sap  the  same  ; 

And  would,  had  not  my  anger  broke  control, 

And  laid  his  form  dissevered  from  the  soul. 

You  have  this  monster,  now,  which  has  long  weigh'd 
Down  this  shut  heart  and  shook  a  craggy  blade. 

[Diannali  turns  away  and  covers  herfiice.] 


SMITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE   FORGIVEN   MURDER.          223 

O,  my  ciear  wife,  with  scorn  turn  not  away  — 
Spurn  not  this  aching  bosom  ;  stay  !  oh,  stay  ! 
Let  all  the  world  strike  deep  the  vengeful  blow, 
But  you,  dear  consort,  stay,  and  soothe  my  woe. 

[Diannah  looks  at  him  contemptuously .~\ 

Withhold  those  looks,  worse  than  daggers  to  the  heart, 
They  pierce  my  soul,  and  sting  the  deathless  part ; 
Forgive,  great  heaven  —  forgive,  Eternal  God  ! 
I  heretofore  have/kwW,  now,  tremble,  for  thy  rod. 

[To  Hamburg.] 

And  you,  if  in  these  pains  no  satisfaction  find. 
Take  this  red  dagger,  here,  I  am  resigned  ; 

[Drawing  out  a  concealed  knife,  blood  stained.] 

It  spilt  the  blood  of  him  who  now  lies  low  - 
Take  it,  and  strike  the  long'd-for,  revengeful  blow. 
Plunge  deep,  until  the  life-fed,  wreaking  blade 
Glut  your  revenge  ;  and  death's  eternal  shade 
Seals  up  these  eyes,  and  clasps  this  form  around, 
As  my  freed  spirit  rushes  from  the  wound. 

HAMBURG. 

[Taking  the  dagger  or  knife.] 

I  take  revenge  !     Nay,  curs'd  be  this  guilty  steel  — 
It  were  as  if  its  point  e'en  now  I  feel, 
Deep  rankling  in  my  heart. 

[Throws  the  knife  down  spitefully] 

Lay  there,  curs'd  knife, 
I  hate  you.     You  have  drank  the  ebbing  life 
Of  one  —  you  may  not  —  shall  not,  drink  of  two  — 
On  thee,  my  brother's  late  heart's  blood  I  view, 


224         SMITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE   FORGIVEN   MURDER. 

Deep  anguish-causing  sight !  Oh,  how  I  rue 
Your  hated  poAver  !  O  ever  murderous  blade  ! 
But  why  dumb  steel  condemn,  and  not  npbraid 
Myself?     Woe  to  the  day  when  first  this  feud  began, 

[To  Diannah.] 

And  we  oppos'd  your  union  with  this  man  ; 

For  whosoever  wars  with  Cupid's  charm, 

Receives  but  wounds  from  his  victorious  arms. 

Yes,  love  and  confidence  were  once  our  own, 

And  Joy  look'd  down  from  her  inviting  throne, 

And  smil'd  —  we  lived,  rejoiced —  from  day  to  day,-- 

Each  in  the  other's  weal  —  flowers  strew'd  our  way, 

And  friendship,  with  a  golden  chain,  bound  heart 

To  heart.     Pale  death  shot  first  his  hideous  dart, 

And  broke  the  ring.     Then  came  this  man,  your  choice  ; 

We,  wondering,  rais'd  at  first  a  chiding  voice, 

Soon  opposition,  shouted  o'er  the  scene, 

And  mountains  rose  and  thrust  themselves  between  ; 

I  need  repeat  no  more.     What  see  we  here  ? 

Enough  to  drench  a  brazen  eye  with  tears. 

And  who  can  say  where  all  this  feud  shall  end  ? 

O  be  my  sister  still  — 

[To  Hamburg. ~\ 

be  thou  my  friend. 

And  heaven  look  down,  and  pardon  every  wrong, 
And  stop  these  woes,  nor  longer  wrath  prolong. 

DILAH. 

[To  Hamburg.] 

Hear,  Hamburg,  what  your  sister  has  to  say, 
Now  spirit,  once,  inhabitant  of  clay  : 


SMITHFIELD  :    OR,  THE   FORGIVEN  MURDER.         225 

All  Pardoning  Mercy  hears  your  prayer, 
And  each  dark  cloud  bids  vanish  into  air ; 
For  this  sad  murder  he  requires  no  life-- 
'Tvvas  paid  by  injuries  done  to  him  and  wife, 
That  was  with  such  malicious  feelings  rife, 
As  near  to  justify  this  mortal  strife. 

[To  all,'] 

Let  every  hostile  thought  now  die  away, 
And  friendship  rise,  and  crown  a  happier  day, 
And  joy  and  bliss  in  life  shall  be  your  own. 
And  after  this,  a  beautiful  unknown. 

SILVA. 

(Sings.     Tune :  Sweet  by  and  by.) 
And  the  angels  in  glory  above, 

Thick  around  you  their  blessings  shall  strew, 
And  shall  give  you  the  hand  of  their  love, 
Which  shall  lead  you  to  life  that  is  true. 
[Clwrus  of  "Sweet  by  and  by."] 

In  the  sweet  by  and  by,  by  and  by, 
In  the  sweet  by  and  by,  by  and  by, 

We  shall  meet  on  that  beautiful  shore,  by  and  by, 
In  the  sweet  by  and  by,  by  and  by, 
In  the  sweet  by  and  by,  by  a  ad  by, 

We  shall  meet  on  that  beautiful 

CRETIA. 

(Sings.     Tune  as  above.) 
Now,  dear  sisters,  supernal  and  bright, 

Quick  as  thought,  let  us  wing  our  long  way 
To  our  home  in  the  regions  of  light, 

And  where  dwelleth  the  Father  of  day. 


226          SMITHFIELD  :    OR,   THE   FORGIVEN   MURDER. 

[Repeat  tune  of  first  four  lines.] 
There  extended  is  that  happy  shore, 

Where  the  saints  of  all  ages  shall  meet, 
And  we  all  in  his  smiles  evermore, 

One  another  in  kindness  will  greet. 

[Follow  cliorus  of  "  Sweet  by  and  by,"  when  curtain  drops  and  scene 

closes.] 

CONCLUSION. 


THE   THREE    BEAUTIES:    OR,  TOM    MOORE.  227 


THE  THREE  BEAUTIES:  OR,  TOM  MOORE. 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS. 

TOM  MOORE,  Chooser  of  Three  Loves  or  Beauties. 

FATHER  OP  FIRST  BEAUTY. 

FATHER  OF  THIRD  TEAUTY. 

LAWYER,  attending  on  Father  of  First  Beauty. 

SERVANT,  attending. 

Ladies. 

FIRST  BEAUTY.         SECOND  BEAUTY.          THIRD  BEAUTY. 
RUMOR,  a  Gossiping  Old  Woman. 

PROLOGUE. 

We  give  you  in  this  drama,  our  Tom  Moore, 
Who  for  love's  sake,  three  worthy  beauties  chose, 

And  vow'd  to  each,  that  faithful  he  'd  endure 
Through  all  life's  changes  to  its  final  close; 

And  he  was  shrewd  and  deep,  a  fine  young  man, 

And  knew  just  how  to  take  one  by  the  hand. 

He  was  all-skillful  tying  a  cravat, 
And  as  for  playing  with  a  lady's  sleeve, 

Petting  her  poodle,  and  all  this  and  that, 
I  do  not  think  —  at  least,  can  not  believe, 

That  you  would  very  likely  be  to  catch 
In  all  creation  wide,  his  full,  fair  match. 


228  THE   THEEE   BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM    MOORE. 

Then  he  could  quote  Lord  Byron,  Chitty,  Bright, 
Eldred,  Joe  Benson,  Hume,  and  half  a  score 

That  I  can't  even  think  of.     He  would  cite, 
Cowper,  Dryden,  Shakespear,  and  many  more, 

To  prove  a  swallow  could  not  be  a  dove, 

And  consequently  friendship  was  not  love. 

Such  proofs,  an<i  such  authority,  he  'd  bring, 
Attention  for  to  gain,  and  chain  the  mind  ; 

To  clear  his  points,  and  show  each  was  the  thing, 
Though  stood  oppos'd,  the  rest  of  all  mankind. 

Against  such  reasoners,  though  inclin'd  to  doubt, 

Who  in  an  argument  could  long  hold  out  ? 

They  say,  he  studied  law,  which  I  don't  doubt  — 
Woman  and  many  other  things,  I'm  told, 

And  these,  God  bless  you,  he  knew  all  about  ; 
And  could  interpret  dreams,  and  fate  unfold. 

And  this  youth  liv'd — for  any  thing  I  know 

He  may  be  living  yet  somewhere  —although 

That's  somewhat  doubtful,  suicides  are  common, 
And  I  have  known  a  case  in  my  short  day, 

Where  only  one,  bewitching,  lovely  woman, 
Led  half  a  dozen,  youths,  sad  wits,  astray, 

So  far,  that  these  unfortunate  young  men, 

Plung'd  into  a  river,  and  —  swam  out  again. 

Now,  if  one  beauty,  thus  full  half  a  dozen 

Could  cause  to  open  act,  so  desperate, 
Of  him  who  had  three  worthy  beauties  chosen, 


THE    THREE    BEAUTIES  I    OR,  TOM   MOORE.  229 

What,  think  you,  must  have  been  the  fate  ? 
The  answer,  gentle  hearers,  you'll  agree, 
Can  be  obtained  by  double  rule  of  three. 

And  by  this  rule,  our  statement  we  will  make, 
Arrange  our  figures,  a's,  and  b's,  and  y's, 

And  then  to  demonstrate,  we'll  undertake, 
If  you  will  lend  us  all  your  ears  and  eyes  ; 

And  his  chagrin  and  great  dilemma  show, 

Who  had  too  many  strings  tied  to  his  bow. 


SCENE     FIRST. 
A  private  room,  in  which  is  seated  First  Beauty.    Enter  Ton  MOORE. 

TOM   MOORE. 

Good  evening,  my  fair.     Quite  a  fine  pleasant  day  ; 
How  is  your  father's  family,  and  thee  ? 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

All  are  in  health,  I  am  much  pleas'd  to  say  ; 
Glad  you  have  call'd —  I've  been  lonesome  for  me. 

TOM   MOORE. 

No  more  glad  than  I,  if  I  might  be  judge, 
There  is  nothing  more  pleasant  than  to  lay  by 

Old  musty  books,  and  forsaking  the  drudge, 
Go  out  in  the  world,  and  from  the  dark  eye, 

Read  lessons  of  beauty,  as  Byron  would  say, 
Or  sun  my  tired  spirits  in  your  sweet  smiles, 


230  THE   THREE   BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM   MOORE. 

As  a  Scott  has  rehears'd  ;  for,  by  the  way, 
There  is  no  one  like  you  can  my  moments  beguile. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Flattery  enough  !    I  am  sure  I  shall  find 
That  true,  only  give  time,  its  trying  course  ; 

But  that  is  the  way  of  all  mankind, 

And  yet  I  don't  know  that  ive  are  the  worse. 

TOM  MOORE. 

Flattery  ?     O,  no  !  'tis  the  depth  of  my  heart, 
To  such  things  as  that,  I  never  resort  ; 

And  who  besides  you  is  there  shares  a  part 
Of  my  very  thoughts  ?  there  is  none  of  that  sort. 

Then  be  not  remiss,  but  faithful  and  true, 

As  I  am  to  you,  wherever  I  go  ; 
The  which  in  the  future,  you  will  not  rue, 

But  wonder,  to  trust  me,  why  you  were  slow. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

O,  if  you're    in  earnest,  then  I  would  say, 
I  never  have  dream'd  such  a  thing  until  now  ; 

Never  doubted  your  word  —  will  not  to-day  — 
But  time  for  reflection,  sure,  you'll  allow  ? 

TOM  MOORE. 

Yes,  any  thing  but  the  blunt  answer,  "  No." 
Say  I  can  hope,  joy  smiles  from  its  throne  ; 

To  meet  with  you  is  bliss,  to  sever,  woe, 

And  though  in  crowds,  without  you,  I'm  alone. 


THE  THREE  BEAUTIES  :  OR.  TOM  MOORE.     231 

Search,  then,  your  bosom  —  learn  your  own  desire 
And  to  unwavering  purpose  fix  your  mind  ; 

Consult  all  those  concerned,  mother  and  sire, 
And  when  we  meet  again,  be  all  defin'd. 

FIRST  BEAUTY. 

I  will,  and  time  shall  tell  the  tale,  wrong  or  right, 
And  shall  determine  fate. 

TOM  MOORE. 
Good-night. 

FIRST  BEAUTY. 

Good-night. 
[Exit  TOM  MOORE,  and  scene  closes.] 


SCENE    SECOND. 

A  private  library,  Father  of  First  Beauty,  seated  at  a  desk,  writing. 
Enter  FIRST  BEAUTY. 

FATHER  OF  FIRST  BEAUTY. 

My  dear,  what  secret  care  hangs  on  your  brow  ? 

Why  come  you  here  at  this  my  musing  hour  ? 
I've  ever  sought  your  welfare  —  seek  it  now  — 

O  speak,  and  to  relieve,  I  lend  my  power. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

A  youth  has  sought  the  favor  of  my  heart, 
A  youth  of  manners,  polish'd  and  refin'd, 


232     THE  THREE  BEAUTIES  :  OR,  TOM  MOORE. 

Skilled-well,  yes,  prosperous  in  the  legal  art, 
'Tis  said,  and  has  a  well  develop'd  mind. 

Perhaps  you  are  acquaint ;  Tom  Moore's  his  name. 
Though  he  is  young,  it  may  have  reach'd  your  ear, 

For  rumor  says,  he's  not  unknown  to  fame  ; 
And  he,  that  I  am  to  him  doubly  dear. 

He  wishes  me  now  speedily  to  learn, 
My  own  intentions  and  heart-felt  desires, 

To  counsel  you,  and  all  it  may  concern ; 

And,  say,  what  hopes  may  feed  affection's  fire. 

FATHER   OF   FIRST    BEAUTY. 

Yes,  I  know  him  well,  and  deep  in  his  eye, 
I  read  the  vile  —  deep-laid,  the  trickster's  snare  ; 

Be  w.ttchful  of  it,  as  the  crow,  and  shy, 
Lest  it  should  prove  your  ruin  and  despair  ; 

And  you  to  be  my  undeserved  shame  ; 

Yea,  shun  him  as  you  would  the  serpent  vile, 
This  house  of  mine  his  visits  ne'er  shall  stain, 

I  bid  you  fear  his  ever  dangerous  guile. 

FIRST  BEAUTY. 

Father,  ungrounded  prejudice  has  stirr'd 

This  hostile  feeling  in  your  breast,  most  sure  ; 

For  one  so  gentle  in  each  act  and  word, 

Must,  in  each  inward  thought,  be  kind  and  pure. 

Besides,  he  loves  me,  as  he  loves  his  soul, 
And  this,  my  bosom  would  that  love  return, 


THE   THREE    BEAUTIES  :    OR,   TOM   MOORE.  233 

And  for  your  will  can  I  that  flame  control  ? 
Which,  kindled,  now  begins  to  brightly  bum  ? 

FATHER   OF   FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Urge  me  not  thus  —  you  understand  my  mind  ; 

I'd  rather,  far,  the  grave  would  open  wide, 
And  swallow  you,  in  death's  pale  shroud  confin'd, 

Than  his  false  arms  should  clasp  you  as  his  bride. 

E'en  though  he  loves  you,  as  he  loves  his  soul, 
'T would  be  unworthy  of  the  slightest  trust, 

For  you,  less  ardent  than  the  sparkling  bowl, 
And  that,  to  satiate  a  meaner  lust. 

Hear,  then,  my  words,  nor  dare  to  disobey  : 

If  ere  he  cross  the  threshold  of  my  door, 
You  shall  not  welcome  him,  or  bid  him  stay, 

But  I  will  say,  "  Depart  forevermore, 
Lest  you,  the  vengeance  of  this  arm  shall  feel, 

Expletive  of  my  just  awaken'd  wrath." 
Your  heart  against  him,  O,  my  daughter,  steel, 

And  when  I  point  to  danger,  shun  the  path. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Father,  in  all  things  else,  I  heed  your  will, 

In  this,  how  can  I,  where  my  all  is  lost  ? 
I've  loved  you  as  a  daughter  should  —  do,  still  — 

But  love  I  have  for  him,  that  love  exhausts. 

FATHER   OF   FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Do  as  you  will,  my  child  ;  but  know,  above 
Is  ruin,  hanging  on  a  single  hair, 
10* 


234  THE   THREE    BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM    MOORE. 

If  you  forsake  my  counsel  and  my  love, 

And  headlong  rush  —  to  what  ?  — no  one  knows  where. 

[Exit  FIBST  BEAUTY,  and  scene  closes.'] 


SCENE     THIRD. 

Tlie  private  room  of  First  Beauty,  she  walking  tJierein  in  a  contempla 
tive  manner,  soliloquising. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Ah,  where  am  I  ?  —  in  what  ill-fated  land  ? 

Conflicting  powers  war  'round  my  weary  head, 
And  anxious  cares  rolling  on  either  hand, 

Toss  me  with  love,  and  with  a  father's  dread. 

O  Love  !  invincible  to  every  foe  ! 

Say,  why  unbidden  tenant  now  my  breast  ? 
Why  flies  your  arrow  from  its  fated  bow, 

Dealing  sweet  pain,  and  killing  all  my  rest  ? 

Shall  I  for  you  neglect  my  father's  will  ? 

And  he,  who  taught  my  childhood,  disobey  ? 
What  measures  do  you  take  for  to  fulfill 

Your  ends  ?     What  fancied  garlands  strew  your -way  ? 

No,  I  will  not,  though  thorny  seem  the  way, 
Forsake  where  honest  duty  points  the  path; 

And  lured  by  nuptial  joys,  wander  astray, 
And  a  reap  a  just  reward,  a  parent's  wrath. 


THE  THREE  BEAUTIES  :  OR,  TOM  MOORE.     235 

Long  — long,  opposing  objects  in  my  mind, 
Like  wild  conflicting  elements  have  fought ; 

Alternate  conquering  as  the  shifting  mind, 
And  save  an  inward  war,  avails  me  naught. 

But  now,  this  thought,  "I  owe  myself  to  him, 
Who  bids  me  not  to  love,"  weighs  down  the  scale, 

And  drives  away  the  clouds  of  doubt,  which  skim 
Across  my  skies,  with  a  victorious  gale. 

But,  list !  his  well  known  footsteps  now  I  hear, 
Approaching  nigh,  all  anxiously,  to  know 

What  my  conclusions  are  ;  — trembling  with  fear. 
And  shall  I  deal  to  him  unwilling  woe  ? 

O !  causing-grief  !     Oh  !  brooding  dark  despair  ! 

[Bell  rings.  ] 
But  here  he  is  ;  ye  trembling  fears,  begone. 

[Opens  door.] 
Good  evening,  friend. 

TOM  MOORE. 

[Entering.] 

Peace  be  with  you,  my  fair. 
How  often  I  have  watch'd,  the  wish'd-for  dawn 

Of  this  important  day,  on  which  life-time, 
As  weight  of  mountains  on  a  pebble  stone, 

Seems  poised  —  the  future,  grandly  balanc'd  here, 
To  weigh  wherever  you  may  will,  alone  ; 

To  rise,  and  in  the  perfect  sunshine  glow 

Of  long-sought,  nuptial  joys  ;  or,  weighing  down, 


230  THE   TfJREK    BRAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM    MOORE. 

To  sink  enveloped  in  the  deepest  woe, 

Where  dark  despair,  and  sharp  vexations  fyown. 

Speak,  in  the  glance  of  whose  full  eye, 
I  see  a  thousand  feelings  rise  and  swell, 

Each  breathing  out  my  life  long  destiny  — 
Say,  what  are  these  ?  O,  may  not  all  be  well  ? 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

I  fear  to  speak  what  lately  father  vow'd, 
Whose  voice,  stern  duty  calls  me  to  obey  ; 

Alas  !  which  now  hangs  as  a  sable  cloud, 
Of  disappointment  o'er  my  future  way. 

He  bids  me  shun  you  as  a  dangerous  man, 
Nor  cherish  one  soft  feeling  of  the  heart, 

Lest  I  should  curse  the  moment  it  began, 
And  rue  the  day,  when  Cupid  shot  his  dart. 

I  am  resolv'd  to  listen  to  his  voice  ; 

Then  urge  me  not  to  disobey  his  will  ; 
Though  mine  be  different  from  my  father's  choice, 

I  owe  myself  to  him,  and  his  am  still. 

TOM  MOORE. 
O,  such  are  but  the  laws,  which  bind  mankind, 

In  turn,  the  risen,  to  the  rising  race  ; 
Father,  to  child,  to  swell  the  budding  mind, 

Which,  when  matur'd,  depends  on  its  own  base  ; 

Plans  its  own  prospects  for  its  future  life, 
Woman  to  choose  her  own  companion  then, 


THE   THREE    BEAUTIES  I    OK,  TOM    MOORE.  237 

And  man  at  will  to  single  out  his  wife  ; 
For  these,  we  look  to  God,  and  not  to  men. 

Whate'er  }^our  sire  has  done,  you  owe  him  naught, 

It  came  through  nature's  universal  law, 
Forc'd  from  his  iron  bosom  all  unsought, 

And  bids  you  now,  your  own  conclusions  draw. 

O  !  if  one  tender  feeling  in  your  breast 

There  lives  for  me,  O,  speak  !  —  do  not  conceal 

What  God  has  planted  there,  but  its  behest 
Obey  ;  and  all  the  fruit  will  then  be  weal. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

This  is  an  argument ;  your  words  seem  true, 
Not  by  human  aid,  but  by  divine,  we  live  ; 

The  latter,  bids  me  deeply  cherish  you, 

A.iid  frankly  to  confess  —  O,  then,  forgive  ! 

But  what  avails  ?     My  father's  aim  will  be 
To  thwart  our  own,  and  cross  our  every  path, 

Which  leads  that  way.     Stern  and  keen-eyed  is  he, 
And  who  can  brook  the  terror  of  his  wrath  ? 

TOM  MOORE. 
We  need  not  brook  it.     Keep  this  matter  still. 

I  will  not  meet  you  at  your  father's  home, 
But  here  and  there,  which  manag'd  so  with  skill, 

That  he  will  not  suspect,  till  time  has  flown, 

And  riveted  the  chain  so  firm  and  strong, 
He  dare  not  'tempt  its  golden  links  to  sever  ; 


238     THE  THREE  BEAUTIES  :  OR,  TOM  MOORE. 

But  knowing  where  propriety  belongs, 
Will  bless  and  sanction  it,  I  trust,  forever. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Would  that  he  might ;  but,  oh  !  I  quake  for  fear, 
Nevertheless,  I'll  listen  to  your  word, 

The  which,  in  each  extremity,  I'll  hear, 

Such  feelings  deep,  you've  in  my  bosom  stirr'd. 

TOM  MOORE 
Then  I  would  say,  that  when  we  meet  again, 

Be  it,  at  our  friend  John's  —  he  pleads  the  right ; 
This  to  conceal  will  be  his  utmost  aim. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Ageed,'tis  there  we  meet. 

TOM   MOORE. 

Good-night. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Good-night. 

[Curtain  falls,  and  scene  closes.] 


SCENE    FOURTH. 

A  sick  room,  and  Fatlier  of  First  Beauty  on  his  death  bed,  an  attendant 
at  his  side. 

FATHER  OF  FIRST  BEAUTY. 

Pale  death  is  over  me,  my  life  is  short  — 
But  ere  its  close,  I  wish  to  make  my  will ; 


THE   THREE    BEAUTIES  :    OR.  TOM    MOORE.  230 

And,  therefore,  to  a  lawyer  please  resort, 
That  he,  for  me  my  orders  may  fulfill. 

[Exit  attendant,  and  soon  returning  with  a  lawyer.} 
LAWYER. 

I  have  arriv'd,  my  honored  sir.     How  fare 
You,  now. 

FATHER   OF   FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Trembling,  I  stand  on  life's  last  verge  ; 
Grim  death  and  doom  upon  my  features  stare, 
And  you  to  this  most  solemn  duty  urge  ; 

Lest  life's  snapp'd  cord,  forever  seals  this  tongue  ; 
Make  haste,  and  legally  indite  my  will. 

LAWYER. 
Most  quickly,  sir ;  no  quicker  said  than  done. 

[Seating  himself  to  write.  ] 

I  am  prepar'd  your  mandates  to  fulfill. 

FATHER. 

My  upper  farm,  known  as  the  Lees  Estate, 

I  give  my  only  son,  and  add  thereto, 
All  goods  and  chattels  found  thereon,  this  date  ; 

And  all  my  bonds,  and  notes,  now  coming  due. 

This,  the  old  homestead,  I  bequeath  my  wife, 
And  all  its  fixtures  likewise  grant  to  her  ; 

Dear  solace,  sweet  companion  of  my  life, 
Would  I  could  health  and  happiness  confer. 


240  THE   THREE   BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM   MOORE. 

And  there's  my  daughter,  darling  of  my  heart, 
I  give  to  her  full  twenty  thousand  pounds  ; 

I  fear,  alas,  the  victim  of  a  subtle  art, 

Freedom  from  which,  would  be  a  greater  boon. 

O  God,  if  thou  dost  hear  a  dying  groan, 
Or  listen  to  an  earnest  voice  in  prayer, 

0  shield  my  daughter  from  this  wretch  unknown, 
And  save  her  from  disgrace,  if  not  despair. 

You've  written  down  my  order  ? 

LAWYER. 
Yes. 

FATHER. 

That's  all. 

The  rest,  the  laws  of  this  my  state,  divide. 
But  as  you  leave,  please  my  dear  daughter  call, 
Tell  her,  I  wish  to  see  her  by  my  side. 

[Exit  Lawyer,  and  soon  enters  FIRST  BEAUTY.] 
FIRST   BEAUTY. 

1  greet  you,  father,  with  a  daughter's  love  , 

How  can  I  aid  you  in  your  latest  breath  ? 
O  that  some  guardian  spirit  from  above, 

With  visions  fair,  might  dull  the  shafts  of  death. 

FATHER. 

The  sharpest  shaft,  which  pierces  me,  my  dear, 
And  wounds  my  heart,  and  cleaves  my  very  soul, 


THE  THREE  BEAUTIES:  OR,  TOM  MOOUE.     241 

You  can  withdraw  —  can  my  hist  moments  cheer, 
And  e'en  in  death  my  parting  life  console. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

What  is  that  shaft  ?     Tell  me,  that  I  may  aid. 

While  yet  a  child  'twas  my  delight  to  cheer  ; 
Why  bosom  now  your  grief  ?  and  why  afraid  ? 

FATHER. 

O,  then,  dear  daughter,  my  last  counsel  hear  : 

And  say,  ere  my  last,  fated  breath  be  tried, 

(And  we  parted  be,  alas,  forever,) 
That  you  will  not  become  this  Tom  Moore's  bride  — 

To  which  could  I  consent  ?    Ah  !  Never  !  Never  ! 

O,  if  you've  ever  honored  me  in  life, 

Or  now,  would  drop  one  tear  within  my  grave, 

Say  you  will  not  become  this  young  man's  wife, 
Then,  happy  I  shall  die  ;  as,  you  to  save. 

[Daughter  weeps  without  words.] 

Why  weeps  my  child  ?     Have  I  not  been  her  friend  ? 

Have  I  not  ever  shielded  and  caress'd  ? 
Have  not  my  counsels  prov'd  her  good  in  th'  end  ? 

Then,  why  thus  grieve,  at  this  my  last  request  ? 

E'en  now,  when  I  would  guide  her  steps  aright, 

And  life  is  flickering  as  a  dying  lamp  ? 
When  death  before  me  spreads  a  dismal  night, 

And  'round  me,  clouds  as  gloomy,  cold  and  damp  ? 
Q          11 


24-2        THE  THREE  BEAUTIES  :  OR,  TOM  MOORE. 

O  promise  !  —  while  life's  current  warms  my  veins, 
Just  for  a  dying  father's  sake,  if  all  ; 

Be  quick  —  the  vital  spark  scarce  yet  remains  — 
I  sink,  alas  !  and  death  receives  the  fall. 

[Father  of  First  Beauty  dies,  curtain  falls  and  scene  closes.] 


SCENE     FIFTH. 

A  private  apartment,  wJiere  First  Beauty  is  seated,  dressed  in  mourning. 
Enter  TOM  MOORE, 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Good  evening,  Tom. 

TOM   MOORE. 

I  grieve  with  you,  my  fair. 

FIRST    BEAUTY. 

Ah  !  —  changed  indeed,  the  scene  since  we  last  met ; 

Where  joy  then  smil'd,  now  frowns  as  deep  despair, 
He  having  died,  to  whom  I  owe  life's  debt. 

Alas  !  —  how  fleeting  is  each  earthly  joy  ! 

'Twas  but  as  yesterday,  fair  pleasures  smil'd, 
To-day,  death  reigning,  all  my  peace  destroys, 

And,  me  dejected,  leaves,  an  orphan  child. 

TOM  MOORE. 
Grieve  not  too  deeply  at  this  loss,  my  dear, 

Which  hangs  so  weighty  on  your  drooping  heart ; 


THE   THREE    BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM    MOORE.  243 

There's  not  a  woe,  but  brings  some  little  cheer, 
And  not  a  loss,  but  has  some  gain  in  part. 

Your  sire,  though  dead,  blest  heaven  his  spirit  owns  — 
A  thousand  pleasures  on  your  Avalks  attend  ; 

And  this  joy  greets  you  now,  before  unknown, 
"  To  freely  own  me  as  your  bosom  friend." 

No  opposition  now  doth  cross  our  way, 

The  current  of  our  love  may  smoothly  glide, 

Till  dawns  on  us  that  doubly  happy  day, 

When  all  the  world  shall  know  you  as  my  bride. 

FIRST  BEAUTY. 

But,  oh  !  —  can  I  neglect  to  heed  that  voice, 

Which  plead,  while  death  was  rattling  in  its  tone, 

And  bade  me  not  to  take  you  for  my  choice, 
And  ask'd  my  pledge  in  an  expiring  groan  ? 

TOM  MOORE. 
And  did  you  promise  ? 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

No,  I  held  my  breath, 

While  tears  cours'd  down  my  cheeks.   He  saw  my  grief, 
And  said,  "  Why  weeps  my  child  ?   What !  now  in  death 
Can  she  not  promise  for  a  sire's  relief?  " 

Those  pleading  words  felt  for  my  inmost  soul, 
And  rous'd  up  feelings  all  before  unstirr'd, 

Tears  gush'd  afresh— I  self  could  scarce  control, 
And  was  about  to  pledge,  when  death  occurred, 


THE  THREE  BEAUTIES  :  OR,  TOM  MOORE. 

And  cut  me  short.  Oh  !  what  a  life  I  live, 
Betwixt  opposing  aims,  tossed  to  and  fro  ! 

Could  he  have  said  but  once,  UI  do  forgive," 
It  would  have  sav'd  me  this. — What  pain !  what  woe  ! 

But  now,  when  shall  these  constant  bick'rings  cease  ? 

Which  as  wild  wolves  rave  'round  my  vital  breast 
Insatiate  still,  devouring  all  my  peace, 

And  with  their  hateful  jaws  mangle  my  rest. 

TOM  MOORE. 
O,  cease,  my  dear,  to  ponder  on  such  things, 

Which  can  but  perfect  wretchedness  awake, 
And  leave  behind  the  most  tormenting  stings. 

O  cease  !  for  mine,  and  for  your  safety  sake. 

Your  father's  soul  will  pardon  you,  most  sure, 
While  looking  from  the  place  to  where  it's  gone, 

Will  see  your  love  so  ardent,  fond  and  pure, 
And  whisper  from  above,  "  My  girl,  love  on." 

FIRST   BEAUTY- 

O  that  it  might,  and  I  could  plainly  hear  — 

How  chang'd  from  woe  to  joy,  my  lot  would  be, 

My  one  delight  would  be  yourself  to  cheer, 
My  daily  object,  truly  loving  thee. 

TOM  MOORE. 
You  can  most  plainly  hear,  through  reason's  voice, 

Your  father  seeks  your  good,  and  now  his  mind, 
Discerning  deeper,  will  approve  your  choice, 

Perceiving  where  before  he  err'd,  as  blind. 


THE   THREE    BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM   MOORE.  245 

Then  let  us  love  at  once,  as  we  should  love, 

Firmly  confiding  in  each  other's  trust, 
Each  error  overlook,  each  wrong  forgive  — 

'Tis  ours  to  happy  be,  we  can,  we  must. 

FIRST  BEAUTY. 

I  heed,  Tom  Moore,  and  I  will  love  you  still  — 
My  father,  O  !  forgive  !     My  feelings  sway 

Me  as  the  winds  and  ensign  —  at  their  will, 

But  crown'd  with  hope,  promise  a  brighter  day. 

TOM  MOORE. 
Then  reassur'd  that  all  is  well,  we  part, 

Repose  in  me  your  confidence  and  trust, 
And  nothing  shall  betray  it  from  my  heart, 

Of  which  you  have  the  key. 

FIRST  BEAUTY. 

If,  must,  I  must. 

TOM   MOORE. 

Good-night.     May  angels  fold  you  in  their  arms, 
And  bless  your  slumbers  with  enchanting  dreams. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Good-night.     May  God  protect  you  from  all  harm. 
And  may  you  prove  as  worthy  as  you  seem. 

[Exit  Tom  Moore,  and  scene  closes.'} 


24:6  THE   THREE   BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM   MOORE. 


SCENE     SIXTH. 

Private  apartment,  in  which  Second  Beauty  is  walking  slowly  to  and  fro. 
Enter  TOM  MOOHE. 

TOM  MOORE. 

Hail,  beaut'ous  girl,  with  such  soul-speaking  eyes, 
That  my  profoundest  feelings  oft  do  move, 

By  richer  glories  than  the  sparkling  skies, 
Stretch'd  out  at  eve,  in  elegance  and  love. 

SECOND   BEAUTY. 

O  what  a  burst  of  flattery,  Tom  Moore  — 

Blasphemy  to  the  skies  —  your  own  disgrace  ; 

'Tvvere  justice,  if  yon  arch,  so  soft  and  pure, 
Should  always  hide  from  you  its  smiling  face  ; 

That  you  should  me,  a  creature  of  the  dust, 

Claim  to  esteem  above  its  worth  divine, 
From  whence  flows  every  good  —  O  how  unjust ! 

Besides,  such  things  avail  me  naught,  nor  mine. 

TOM  MOORE.    , 
My  gentle  girl,  O  be  not  too  severe, 

Because  I  liken'd  to  the  azure  skies 
Those  glowing  orbs  of  yours,  to  me  more  dear 

Than  all  things  else,  which  my  affections  prize. 

The  skies  look  down,  and  smile  through  tranquil  blue  — 
Through  sparkling  glories,  show  a  work  divine  ; 


THE  THREE  BEAUTIES  :  OR,  TOM  MOORE.     247 

You  smile,  amid  the  same  soul-touching  hue, 
Like  glories  of  the  stars  your  glances  shine. 

There's  none  more  loves  to  gaze  on  yon  fair  skies, 
And  feast  on  all  their  wond'rous  charms  by  night  ; 

None  love  so  well,  to  look  on  those  fair  eyes, 
And  drink  their  floods  of  intellectual  light. 

As  proof  of  this,  say  you  will  be  my  own, 
And  place  your  private  seal  upon  my  heart, 

And  all  the  treasures  here  within,  you'll  own, 
And  I  will  gladly  act  the  husband's  part. 

SECOND   BEAUTY. 

0  cease,  Tom  Moore,  thus  foolishly  to  jest  — 
Not  such  a  thought,  not  such  a  wish  is  thine; 

To  faithfully  fulfill  such  a  request, 

Is  not  your  own  heart-felt  desires,  nor  mine. 

TOM  MOORE. 

If  there's  a  God  in  the  high  heaven  above, 
Who  sways  the  earth  submissive  at  his  feet, 

1  swear  by  him,  that  thee  I  only  love, 

Which  to  conceal,  would  be  a  foul  deceit. 

And  may  He  shut  this  mouth,  and  close  these  eyes, 

And  hush  forever,  this  life-giving  part, 
If  every  look  of  yours  with  sacred  ties. 

Twine  not  the  very  fibers  of  my  heart. 

O  let  us  mingle  soul  with  swelling  soul, 

warm  affection's  hand,  to  hand  be  press' d, 


THE  THREE  BEAUTIES  I  OR,  TOM  MOORE. 

While  from  the  eyes  shall  stream  without  control, 
Thg  nobler  feelings  of  the  throbbing  breast. 

SECOND   BEAUTY. 

Then,  if  you  love,  and  love  is  what  it  seems,  - 
So  fix'd,  and  yet  so  ardent  in  its  plea, 

I  would  not  turn  away  from  its  fond  beams, 
But  as  you  prove,  such  shall  you  find  in  me, 

TOM   MOORE. 

It  is  enough  —  approving  spirits  smile  — 

And  if  you  love  as  ardently  as  I, 
No  earthly  intrigue  can  that  love  beguile, 

Nor  sever  such  a  holy  woven  tie. 

SECOND   BEAUTY. 

Your  words  are  quite  too  positive,  Tom  Moore, 
The  trying  hours  will  prove  them  false  and  vain, 

Expressions  of  a  love,  so  warm  and  pure, 

Will  in  the  end,  bring  him  who  speaks  to  shame. 

Warm  words  may  flow, and  easily  along, 
But  when  their  meaning  full  is  really  tried, 

You  then  indeed  will  sing  a  different  song, 
And  from  the  first  will  wander  far  and  wide. 

TOM  MOORE. 
But  from  these  vows  I  shall  not  ever  rove, 

Nor  from  you  —  darling  object  of  my  heart ; 
And  as  I  now  —  so  will  I  ever  love, 

And  from  your  wishes,  I  will  ne'er  depart. 


THE    THREE   BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM   MOORE.  249 

SECOND  BEAUTY. 

That  so  you  feel,  I  would  not  now  deny, 

Your  words  have  egress  from  a  source  too  deep, 

Besides  conviction  flashes  from  your  eye  ; 
But  love  not  always  will  its  vigils  keep. 

TOM   MOORE. 

O  may  it  keep  them  in  these  hearts  of  ours, 

Till  they  have  ceas'd  to  beat,  and  sense  grows  blind. 

SECOND   BEAUTY. 

Would  that  it  might,  with  all  its  sacred  powers, 
But  care  and  sorrow  try  all  human  kind. 

TOM  MOORE. 

Good  night.     God  bless  you,  dear,  as  you  have  bless'd  ; 
Your  words  breathe  hope  instead  of  deep  despair. 

SECOND    BEAUTY. 

Good  night.     May  honor  ever  you  possess, 

And  truth  and  virtue  be  your  chiefest  care. 

• 

[Exit  TOM  MOORE,  and  scene  closes.} 


SCENE     SEVENTH. 

A  private  apartment  in  which  is  seated  Third  Beauty.    Bell  rings, 
and  Third  Beauty  opens  the  door. 

Enter  TOM  MOOUB. 
TOM   MOORE. 

Good  evening,  rose  ;  rejoiced  am  I  too  meet  you. 


250  THE   THREE   BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM   MOORE. 

THIRD    BEAUTY. 

Good  evening,  sir  ;  with  pleasure  pure  I  greet  you. 

TOM  MOORE. 

With  pleasure  pure  ?     My  grateful  thanks  I  own. 

How  I  have  long'd  to  meet  you  thus,  my  dear, 
And  hold  sweet  converse  with  yourself  alone, 

And  tell  the  sweet  pain'd  pangs  that  flutter  here. 

For  you  has  swift  wing'd  Cupid  pois'd  his  dart, 
And  when  sure-aim'd,  let  twang  the  fatal  bow, 

The  mystic  point  stands  trembling  in  my  heart, 
While  from  the  wound,  impulses  stranger  flow. 

O,  say,  must  mine  thus  strangely  feel  alone, 
While  yours,  untouch'd,  beats  fetterless  and  free  ? 

Not  so,  I  trust  —  say  you  will  be  my  own, 
And  fortune,  heart,  and  hand,  I  give  to  thee. 

And  may  fair  angels  ever  o'er  us  smile, 

Show'ring  rich  blessings  on  each  sacred  tie, 

And  may  no  sorrows  our  life's  joys  beguile,       , 
But  death  as  one,  transport  us  to  the  sky. 

THIRD    BEAUTY. 

Indeed,  Tom  Moore,  you  take  me  by  surprise, 
How  wildly,  yet  how  earnestly  you  talk  ; 

I  oft  have  wish'd  that  I  was  truly  wise, 
That  I  might  choose  a  proper  future  walk; 

Then  I  could  answer  all  that  you  desire, 

But  sure  some  strange  emotion  fills  my  breast, 


THE   THREE   BEAUTIES  t    OR,  TOM   MOORE.  251 

Creeps  through  my  veins,  and  my  whole  being  fires  ; 
If  this  is  love,  I  yield  to  its  behest. 

TOM   MOORE. 

O,  fairy  spirit,  from  the  upper  skies, 

Sent  down  to  bless  the  living  world  and  me, 

How  much  of  heaven  sparkles  in  your  eyes  ! 
Your  heart  how  noble,  tender,  mild  and  free  ! 

May  some  right  influence  o'er  your  future  way, 
Bend  the  bright  rainbow  of  perpetual  smiles  ; 

And  shedding  from  above  a  moral  day, 
Drive  off  each  evil,  which  life's  joys  beguiles. 

THIRD    BEAUTY. 

Would  that  there  might,  and  virtue's  fairest  flowers, 

Wafting  the  perfumes  of  eternal  truth, 
Might  ever  blossom  in  these  hearts  of  ours, 

And  give  to  age  the  fragrancy  of  youth. 

TOM  MOORE. 

Well  have  you  wish'd,  my  fairest,  time  will  tell, 

Whether  we  shall  participate  or  no  ; 
Meantime,  in  every  good  we  will  excel, 

And  drink  the  purest  joys  that  glide  below. 

Then  we  will  love,  and  in  that  love,  confide  ; 

Whate'er  befalls  us,  or  our  lots  may  be, 
Though  hills  and  oceans  may  our  walks  divide, 

Still  heart  will  cling  to  heart  with  constancy. 


252     THE  THREE  BEAUTIES  :  OR,  TOM  MOORE. 

With  this  fair  understanding  then  —  good  night ! 

May  heaven  pour  its  blessings  on  your  head  ! 
By  rivers  pure  of  innocent  delights, 

The  longings  of  your  soul  be  quench'd,  and  fed. 

THIRD    BEAUTY. 

Good  night !     May  the  sweet  dews  of  youth's  fair  morn 
Breathe  pleasant  odors  o'er  your  future  way  ! 

May  Wisdom's  morning  star,  your  brow  adorn, 
And  show  within,  an  intellectual  day, 

Sparkling  its  glories  through  your  azure  eyes, 
Just  as  Aurora  gilds  the  East  with  light, 

When  lovely  Venus  in  those  glowing  skies, 
In  beauty's  garb,  is  rising  high.     Good  night  ! 

[Exit  TOM  MOORE,  and  scene  closes.] 


SCENE     EIGHTH . 

A  private  apartment,  wlwrein  First  Beauty  is  walking  alone  in  a  con 
templative  manner. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Ah  !  why  should  I  these  strange  emotions  feel, 
Now  rising  every  moment  in  my  breast, 

Which  like  vile  serpents  through  my  vitals  steal, 
And  with  their  virus  poison  all  my  rest. 

Some  voice  these  words  seems  whisp'ring  in  my  ear  : 
"Behold,  as  time  glides  silently  away, 


THE  THREE  BEAUTIES  :  OR,  TOM  MOORE.     253 

He  whom  you  trust,  and  to  yourself  most  dear, 
In  act  and  word  grows  colder  every  day." 

What  is  the  cause  ?     Is  this  affection  tried  ? 

Is  not  my  heart,  as  ever,  warm  and  kind  ? 
Oh  !  what  my  father  utter'd,  when  he  died, 

With  double  force  comes  rushing  back  to  mind. 

[Enter  Miss  RUMOR,  having  the  appearance  of  a  gossipping  woman.] 

RUMOR. 

Has  not  Miss  Pleabrook  heard  the  latest  news  ? 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

What  rumor  now  is  busy  on  the  wing  ? 

RUMOR. 

You  can  not  understand  your  P's  and  Q's, 
Or,  else  you'd  deem  it  not  a  trifling  thing  ? 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

So  many  rumors  jingle  in  my  ear, 

I  scarce  give  heed  to  any  —  all  are  vain  ; 

If  every  sentence  utter'd  I  should  hear, 
What  would  avail  except  a  puzzled  brain  ? 

RUMOR. 

But  this  especially  should  claim  your  care  — 
Should  to  reflection  rouse  your  inmost  soul  ; 

For  it,  (if  true,)  spreads  out  a  fatal  snare, 
To  seize,  and  all  your  fondest  hopes  control. 


254  THE   THREE   BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM   MOORE. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

And  what  in  you  has  struck  this  ardent  strain 
Concerning  me  ?     Speak  out,  that  I  may  hear. 

What  breach  is  made  within  the  ranks  I  claim  ? 
Have  friends  prov'd  false,  once  confident  and  dear  ? 

RUMOR. 
Yes,  false  and  treacherous  as  that  serpent  vile, 

Which  chains  his  victim's  alluring  charms, 
And  while  his  eyes  delight  and  safety  smile, 

He  mangles  with  his  jaws  thick-set  with  arms. 

Tom  Moore,  to  whom  you  have  confided  all, 
And  thought  his  all  was  stor'd  alike  in  thee, 

Has  wander'd  wide  from  every  principle, 
And  vow'd  his  undivided  love  to  three  ; 

And  this  has  done  for  many  months,  while  you 
Have  held  him  as  your  own  — your  sacred  own, 

Not  dreaming  he  could  prove  in  least  untrue  ; 
Yet  he  is  false,  as  Falsehood  on  its  throne. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Ah,  me  !     Where  has  my  resolution  fled  ? 

That  self-controlling  staff  which  propp'd  my  heart 
When  the  lov'd  spirit  of  my  father  fled, 

And  left  me  here  to  act  the  orphan's  part  ? 

I  breasting  then  the  storm,  withstood  the  blast, 

Though  keen  it  swept  my  heart's  string  with  its  power; 

But  now  —  'neath  this,  sharp-whet  with  woe  —  alas  ! 
I  sink  and  wither  as  a  mown-down  flower  ! 


THE  THREE  BEAUTIES  :  OR,  TOM  MOORE.     255 

Bat  who  are  these  that  now  doth  share  a  part 

Of  Tom  Moore's  fickle  —  worse  than  fickle  heart  ? 

Say,  and  if  means  of  nature  can,  or  art, 
We  will  revenge,  and  deal  out  smart  for  smart. 

RUMOR. 

The  beauty  next  to  you  who  thinks  to  share 
His  undivided  love  and  talents  rare, 

Is  daughter  of  Sir  Bradock,  rich  and  fair  ; 
The  next  is  Butler's,  both  a  matchless  pair, 
Each  of  whom  thinks  herself  his  only  care. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Are  these  fix'd  facts  ?  What  proof  is  there  makes  plain  ? 

RUMOR. 

There's  proof  enough  —  hundreds  have  heard  and  seen. 
And,  undisputed,  testify  the  same. 

And  know  that  they  on  him,  as  you,  do  lean. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

[Soliloquising.  ] 
Oh,  bosom  !  writhing  'neath  this  fatal  sting  ! 

O  cherish'd  man  !  —  why  proven  false  and  vain  ? 
Oh  hope  !  —  once  mine,  now  fled  on  viewless  wing  ! 

Oh  black  despair  !  —  Oh  ever  ceaseless  pain  ! 

You  bid  my  father's  slumb'ring  shade  arise, 
And  breathe  chastisement  to  my  stubborn  will, 

By  this  sad  disappointment.     Had  I  been  wise, 
Obedient  to  father's  counsels,  still 


256  THE    THREE    BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM    MOORE. 

I  might  have  happy  been,  in  this  one  thought, 

That  I  had  listened  to  his  latest  voice 
In  this  extreme  —  (thus  doing  as  I  ought)  — 

And  'gainst  my  will,  shunn'd  this  wretched  choice. 

But,  now,  this  cloud  of  infamy  and  shame, 
In  all  its  blackness  rests  upon  my  head ; 

And  I'm  responsible  —  alone  to  blame, 
For  not  observing  what  my  father  said. 

• 

But  I  must  meet  these  ones,  deceiv'd  like  me, 
And  them  of  their  unthought-of  danger,  warn  ; 

Thus  met  in  council,  disappointed  we, 

Will  mete  out  to  Tom  Moore  his  well  earn'd  scorn. 
[Curtain  fall?  and  scene  closes.] 


SCENE     NINTH. 

A  silting  room  and  Beauties  No.  1,  No.  2  and  No.  3  assembled,  and 
sitting  as  though  in  deep  consultation. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Oh  what  a  shame  !  —  thus  —  thus  to  be  betray'd  ! 

For  he  to  me  most  solemnly  has  eworn 
That  if  one  glance  from  him  I  could  upbraid, 

That  his  fond  heart  should  from  its  seat  be  torn. 

SECOND   BEAUTY. 

And  we,  how  oft  have  hoven  sigh  for  sigh. 
Exchang'd  in  tenderness  afiection's  kiss  ; 


THE   THREE    BEAUTIES  !    OR;  TOM   MOORE.  257 

While  feelings  wann  ttow'd  out  from  eye  to  eye, 
And  vow'd  that  hymen  soon  should  crown  our  bliss. 

Oh  what  a  dreary  waste  within  my  soul, 

Spread  out  by  treachery  from  this  false  man, 

O'er  which  my  sorrows  surge  without  control, 
And  dark  despair  waves  o'er  my  every  plan. 

While  deeper  down  the  angry  fountains  boil, 
Of  now  stirr'd  up  revenge,  muddy  and  roil'd, 

They  mix  with  sorrow's  waves,  in  wild  turmoil, 
And  cry,  "  Atonement,  for  each  empty  smile." 

THIRD    BEAUTY. 

Oh  my  heart  wounded  !     Why  thus  keenly  feel 
The  stroke  of  these  most  unexpected  news  ? 

Which  pierces  me  with  its  most  cruel  steel, 
And  desolation  o'er  my  future  strews. 

Of  late  he  did  avow  by  breath  and  life, 
That  every  fiber  knit  his  heart  with  mine, 

And  if  I  would  consent  to  be  his  wife, 
Most  holy  nuptial  joys  should  both  entwine. 

Shame  on  this  gross  neglect  of  every  truth, 
This  disregard  for  feelings,  vows  and  tears, 

It  blights     the  fairest  verdure  of  our  youth, 
A.nd  spread  a  waste  o'er  all  our  future  years. 

"  Revenge  !  "  my  bleeding  bosom  loudly  cries, 
"  Revenge  !  "  shrieks  out  my  deeply  injured  soul, 

While  every  impulse  trembles,  and  replies, 
"Back  on  himself  this  tide  of  mis'ry  roll." 
O          9* 


258  THE   THREE   BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM   MOORE. 

Till  he  the  force  of  woman's  wrongs  shall  feel, 
Most  keenly  feel,  (for  who  deserves  it  more  ?) 

Which  like  a  serpent  through  his  breast  shall  steal, 
And  coil  his  heart,  where  love  had  twin'd  before. 

FIRST    BEAUTY. 

Well  have  you  said,  fair  girl,  so  may  it  be  — 
The  wrongs  we  feel,  upon  himself  shall  fall, 

By  him  be  borne  what  he  design'd  for  three, 

Distill'd  from  varied  sweets,  wormwood  and  gall. 

And  may  the  scorpion  of  his  conscience,  sting 
His  perjured  soul,  and  lacerate  his  heart, 

And  from  these  wounds,  regret  and  anguish  wring, 
For  his  most  cruel  and  deceptive  art. 

THIRD    BEAUTY. 

But  ere  we  measures  take,  or  lay  our  plan, 
My  father  call,  and  let  him  hear  the  tale, 

Who  with  maturer  mind  each  act  will  scan 
And  say  what  means  he  thinks  will  best  avail. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

I  am  agreed,  what,  counsel,  more  deserves  ? 

The  which,  when  taken,  we  will  make  him  heed. 

SECOND  BEAUTY. 

It  suits  me  well.     I  wish  I  had  the  nerves 

,   To  bind  each  broken  tie  that  now  doth  bleed. 

[Enter  FATEIER  OF  THIUD  BEAUTY.] 


THE    THREE    BEAUTIES  :    OK,  TOM   MOORE  259 

THIRD    BEAUTY. 

(Introduces  herfatlier  to  First  and  Second.) 
Father,  Miss  Pleebrook. 

FATHER   OF   THIRD   BEAUTY. 

(Bowing  to  First  Beauty.) 
Welcome  to  my  home. 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

(Replies  to  Father  of  Third.) 
Thanks,  honor'd  sir,  we've  met  on-  business  here. 

THIRD    BEAUTY 

( To  Second  Beauty  and  Father.) 
Miss  Butler,  pa. 

FATHER  OF  THIRD  BEAUTY. 

(To  Second  Beauty.) 
You  also  to  my  own, 
Welcome,  fair  girl. 

SECOND   BEAUTY. 

We  wish  you  peace  and  cheer. 

FATHER  OF  THIRD  BEAUTY. 

Glad  you  have  honor'd  me  with  this  one  call, 
There  seldom  meets  three  fairer  or  more  wise, 

If  for  my  household,  I  could  claim  you  all, 

What  prince  or  king  could  show  a  richer  prize  ? 

FIRST   BEAUTY. 

Not  so  —  our  hearts,  now  desolate,  are  poor, 

If  us  you  'd  think  your  gain,  we  'd  prove  your  loss. 


260     THE  THREE  BEAUTIES  :  OR,  TOM  MOORE. 

Weigh  first  the  jewel,  if  you  would  be  sure  — • 
For  leaves  of  gold  oft  hide  the  sordid  dross. 

THIRD   BEAUTY. 

(To  Father.) 
A  strange  and  naked  truth  has  brought  these  here, 

O  »  O 

That  truth  with  grief  our  inmost  bosoms  plows, 
That  Sir  Tom  Moore,  whom  I  have  held  so  dear, 
Has  pledg'd  his  love  to  these,  with  equal  vows. 

We  seek  revenge,  to  make  him  keenly  feel 

The  force  of  woman's  wrath,  when  justice  reigns  ; 

And  on  his  heart  his  own  curs'd  misery  seal, 
Till  he  repent  in  tears  of  grief  and  shame. 

We  ask  your  wiser  counsel,  and  your  aid, 

To  lay  at  once  a  broad  and  secret  plan, 
To  him  ensnare;  and  when  we  have  repaid, 

Teach  him  to  trace  no  more  such  "  vows  on  sand;" 

And  that  the  constant  love  of  one  true  maid, 

Can  never  with  another's  be  combin'd  ; 
That  worth  of  woman,  rightly,  truly  weigh'd, 

Is  only  to  be  known,  one  at  a  time. 

FATHER  OF  THIRD  BEAUTY. 

Ah  !  that  is  it !  —  most  strange  indeed  !  — you're  right  ! 
But  we  will  see  what  farther  can  be  done. 

THIRD   BEAUTY. 

May  it  be  quick  —  he  visits  me  to  night. 


THE   THREE   BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM   MOORE.  261 

FATHER   OF   THIRD   BEAUTY. 

I  take  ;  retire,  you  three,  into  the  other  room  — 

Keep  quiet  there,  and  clos'd  the  sliding  door, 
And  I  will  manage  all,  and  soon  decide  ; 

Though  quite  unskill'd  in  legal  tact  and  lore, 
And  little  argument  my  plans  to  guide  — 

But,  hark  !  his  well-known  footsteps  now  I  hear, 

Approaching  the  street  door  —  make  haste  !  begone  ! 

[The  Three  Beauties  retire  in  haste.] 

Keep  quiet  there,  and  for  me  do  not  fear, 

Eight  soon,  I'll  lead  this  Tom  Moore  villain  on. 

[Bell  rings  and  TOM  MOOKE  is  ushered  in.] 
TOM  MOORE. 

Good  evening,  sir  —  my  long,  most  reverend  friend, 
May  heaven  give  you  blessings  as  you  need. 

FATHER   OF   THIRD   BEAUTY. 

Good  evening,  sir.     Be  seated,  condescend. 
The  weather,  out,  appears  quite  fine  indeed. 

TOM   MOORE. 

Quite  fine  indeed  it  seems  to  be  just  now, 
But  floating  clouds  to-day  of  every  form, 

Have  held  a  meeting  ending  in  a  row, 
And  all  of  their  proceedings  being  warm, 
'Tis  judged  that  the  result  will  be  a  storm. 


262  THE   THREE   BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM   MOORE. 

FATHER  OF   THIRD   BEAUTY. 

(Aside.) 

As  wise  as  this  man  seems,  and  so  devout. 

Student  of  nature  and  of  all  reform, 
Knows  not  the  analogy  twixt  in,  and  out, 

The  inward,  and  the  outward  gath'ring  storm. 

[To  TOM  MOORE.] 
Tom  Moore,  there  is  a  rumor  in  the  wind, 

A  busy  rumor,  of  a  startling  kind, 

That  you,  to  every  sense  of  duty  lost, 
And  to  each  noble  impulse  deaf  and  blind, 

Have  vovv'd  your  only  love,  reckless  of  cost, 

To  three  fair  girls,  each  of  a  worthy  heart, 
Whose  warm  affections  in  return  are  given, 

Without  the  thought  of  guile  upon  their  part, 
You,  caring  not  to  what  despair  they  're  driven  ; 

Each  word  of  which,  I  do  believe  is  true. 

O  heartless  wretch  —  that  you  could  thus  deceive  ; 
Vengeance  by  right  from  heaven  should  fall  on  you, 

And  fall  it  will,  I  faithfully  believe. 

For  none,  beholding,  will  withhold  his  hand, 
But  answering  to  the  prayers  of  these  fair  girls, 

Upon  your  brow  deep  infamy  will  brand. 

For  which  you'll  have  the  scoffs  of  the  whole  world. 

[ToM  MOOEE  looks  confused,  and  then  slowly  rises  and  paces  the  room 
in  a  confused  manner,  and  suddenly  faces  FATHER  OP  THIRD 
BEAUTY.] 

TOM   MOORE. 

What  sland'rous  words  are  these  that  you  have  said  ? 


THE  THKEE  BEAUTIES  :  OR,  TOM  MOORE.     263 

That  you  endorse  them  is  most  strange  — 
(I  never  wrong'd  a  hair  upon  your  head)  — 
All  the  cause  that  I  can  think  of,  is  a  change 

'  O 

In  your  fair  daughter's  feelings,  or  her  views, 
And  this  the  way  you  take  to  tell  the  news  — 
With  this  most  shameful  preface,  like  a  fable  ; 
But,  sir,  the  ground  you  take  is  actionable  ! 
The  law  (my  potent  remedy)  shall  teach 
A  caution  to  such  liberties  of  speech. 
But,  if  in  this  fair  inference,  I  err, 
And  do  you  least  injustice,  honor'd  sir. 
To  justly  throw  the  blame  where  it  belongs, 
Perhaps  you'll  name  the  author  of  my  wrongs, 
That  those  who  fram'd  the  lie,  and  from  material  raw, 
May  be  rebuked  by  the  stern  majesty  of  Law. 

[FATHER  OF  THIRD  BEAUTY  slowly  rises  from  his  chair  and  shoves 
back  the  sliding  door  entering  in  the  room  where  the  Three  Beauties 
are  sitting,  quiet  as  for  a  tableau,  and  motions  with  his  cane  as  by 
incantation.] 

FATHER  OF  THIRD  BEAUTY. 

Come  forth,  ye  victims  of  a  plighted  love  ! 

Your  wrongs  would  move  the  world  and  heaven  above  ! 

o 

[  The  Three  Beauties,  all  arm  in  arm,  with  slow  and  measured  pace 
march  into  the  room  which  Father  and  Tom  Moore  occupy,  Tom 
Moore  almost  wild  with  chagrin  and  consternation.] 

Now,  are  you  satisfied,  aspiring  man, 

With  my  authority,  you  question'd  so  ? 
Behold  the  ruins  your  false  pledges  span, 

Open  to  you  the  gate  of  bitter  woe. 


264:  THE   THREE   BEAUTIES  :    OR,  TOM  MOORE. 

The  world  is  wide  —  go  forth  and  these  forget  — 
We  all  will  spare  you  now  with  small  regret. 
Tried  and  condemn'd,  pass  out  ray  injured  door 
And  from  the  esteem  of  all  forevermore. 

[FATHER  OF  THIRD  BEAUTY  opens  the  street  door,  and  TOM  MOORE, 
pale  and  confused,  passes  out  in  silence.] 

CURTAIN  FALLS. 


SCENE     TENTH. 

A  dimly  lighted  street,  along  which  TOM  MOORE  slowly  passes,   solil 
oquising,  in  a  low  yet  distinct  voice. 

TOM   MOORE. 

How  have  I  been  out-general'd  by  these  girls  — 
So  taken  in,  and  banish'd  for  my  crime  ; 

But  one  thing  I  will  carry  through  the  world  - 
This  lesson  dearly  learn'd  ;  One  at  a  Time, 
One  at  a  Time,  young  man,  One  at  a  Time, 

CURTAIN  FALLS  AND  SCENE   CLOSES. 


THE    ASSASSINATION    OF   PRESIDENT   GARFIELD.       265 


LINES  WRITTEN  ON  THE  ASSASSINATION  OF 
PRESIDENT  GARFIELD, 

ATTEMPTED  JULY  2ND,  1881,  AND  WHO   DIED   SEPTEMBER 
19TH,  OF  THE  SAME  YEAR. 

All  was  serene,  and  peace  had  stretch'd  its  reign 
From  sea  to  sea,  throughout  our  vast  domain; 
The  ship  of  state  sat  on  unruffled  blue. 
Which  mirror'd  ship  and  flag,  in  colors  true. 

Yet,  deep  beneath,  within  the  people's  soul, 
Forebodings  rose,  of  something  dread  untold, 
How  such  a  peace,  like  rainbow  of  the  morn, 
Must  pillow'd  be  on  an  approaching  storm. 

While  thus  the  people's  mind  'neath  this  smooth  sea 
Was  stretched  on  tip-toe  of  expectancy, 
A  great  event,  by  villain's  hand  let  fall, 
Went  down  into  its  depths,  and  startled  all. 
Great  waves  recede  on  waves  from  where  it  fell, 
Till  all  was  agitation  rock'd.     Wild  swell 
Succeeded  swell,  each  whisp'ring  o'er  and  o'er, 
As  lav'd  was  every  town  upon  our  shore, 
"  Garfield  is  shot,  and  soon  will  be  no  more  !  " 

The  ship  of  state,  full-rigg'd,  dropp'd  to  half  mast 
Her  floating  stars  and  colors  as  they  passed  ; 
12 


266      THE   ASSASSINATION   OF   PRESIDENT   GARFIELD. 

And  people,  wild,  and  pale,  and  anguish-thrHl'd, 

With  these  strange  words  the  passing  breezes  fill'd  : 

"  And  can  it  be  our  President  is  kill'd  ?  " 

"  Oh  hand  of  shame,  and  mind  most  meanly  low, 

To  deal  to  this  great  people  such  a  woe  !  " 

"  O  who  can  steer  the  ship  so  well  as  he, 

A  foe  to  every  wrong  and  all  iniquity." 

"  An  Arthur's  hand  is  dangerous  at  this  hour  — 

Garfield  must  live,  O  God  of  matchless  power." 

And  then  from  every  altar  rose  a  prayer 

Of  deep  solicitude,  that  God  would  spare 

Our  great  Official  head,  and  him  inspire, 

With  power  divine  and  Avisdom's  purging  fire, 

To  cleanse  each  wrong,  and  burn  each  purple  shame, 

That  like  foul  blots  disgrace  our  very  name  — 

To  give  him  strength  of  mind,  and  vision  clear, 

Our  ship  of  state  o'er  dangerous  seas  to  steer  — 

Seas  whose  dark,  swollen  waters  are  supplied 

From  human  hearts,  by  human  passions  dyed. 

Thus  all  the  people  pray'd  with  one  accord, 

And  said,  "Thy  will,  not  ours,  be  done,  O  Lord." 

Thus  streamlet  joining  streamlet,  prayer  arose 

In  one  vast  sea,  which  wide  and  wider  grows, 

As  it  ascends  before  Jehovah's  throne, 

Making  the  wants  of  a  vast  people  known. 

The  Father  saw  this  prayer-fill'd  ocean  rise, 
That  in  it  fullness  swelled  above  the  skies; 
And  as  his  will  is  to  make  haste  to  hear, 
And  answer  heart-felt,  unfeign'd  holy  prayer, 


THE   ASSASSINATION   OF   PRESIDENT   GARPIELD.       267 

The  angel  of  forbearing  mercy  sent, 
To  follow  back  this  stream  of  prayer  intent, 
And  to  its  warm  appeals  swift  answer  give, 
And  bid  this  chieftain  for  a  time  to  live. 

As  quick  as  thought  the  angel  earthward  bound, 

Descends  from  heaven,  and  bathes  the  bleeding  wound, 

And  with  that  balm  which  God  to  angels  lend, 

He  feeds  that  soul,  and  strengthens  it  again. 

And  now  these  waves,  news  bearing,  sweeping  by, 

A  different  language  speak  —  they  softly  sigh, 

"The  hope  is  now,  that  Garfield  will  not  die." 

The  ship  of  state  her  drooping  flag  uprear'd 

Aloft,  then  three  times  wav'd  it  —  three  times  cheer'd, 

Then  gave  it  to  the  breeze  at  full  mast  head, 

The  dear  old  flag,  of  white,  and  blue,  and  re  I  ; 

And  as  it  floated  there,  kiss'd  by  the  sun, 

Garfield's  great,  noble  bust  was  upward  run 

Close  to  its  sacred  folds,  just  underneath, 

Where  it  suspended  hung  "  in  bold  relief; " 

And  still  below,  was  on  a  banner  wrote, 

"  Long  live  our  President  to  see  this  float." 

From  twice  ten  thousand  cannons  lightnings  leap, 

Whose  deep-ton'd  thunders  shake  the  mighty  deep; 

Then,  loud  huzzas^  like  roarings  of  the  seas, 

And  this  acclaim  floats  on  the  passing  breeze  : 

"  Long  live  our  chief !  —  our  noble  flag,  long  wave  ! 

By  God  protected,  by  his  wisdom,  sav'd." 

Then  silence  reigns, — and  still  the  flag  floats  high, 

As  if  to  say,  "The  bearer  must  not  die." 


268      THE   ASSASSINATION   OF   PRESIDENT   GARFIELD. 

To  people's  pallid  lips  the  color  came, 

Which  whisper'd  blessings  to  his  honor'd  name; 

This,  westward  rolling,  the  Pacific  slope 

Gave  speedy  answer  back,  "  We  pray  and  hope." 

The  news  across  old  briny  ocean  roll'd, 

And  to  all  nations  the  warm  story  told. 

The  old  world  heard,  and  said,  or  seem'd  to  say, 

"  We  sympathise  with  young  America," 

And  many  high  crown'd  heads  their  wishes  sent, 

"That  long  might  live  the  much  lov'd  President." 

The  far-off  peopl'd  isles  took  up  the  strain, 

And  join'd  the  song  in  honor  of  his  name  ; 

And  storm-beat  ocean  on  its  billowy  track, 

In  hoarser  murmurs  gave  the  echo  back. 

And  when  bright  hope  arose  and  banish'd  fear, 
O'er  our  broad  country  swept  wild  cheer  on  cheer, 
And  thanks  to  God,  that  an  assassin's  hand 
Was  not  allow'd  to  blight  our  favor'd  land. 

But  what  appear'd  to  us  the  dawn  of  day, 
Was  soon  to  close  in  night,  and  that,  for  aye  , 
For  darkness  settled  on  our  country  wide, 
On  that  eventful  night  when  Garfield  died  ; 
And  other  countries  mourn'd  besides  our  own, 
When  the  sad  tale  was  told,  and  all  was  known. 

But,  unperceived,  Omniscience  from  on  high, 

Doth  every  great  transaction  underlie, 

And  when  we  deem  (so  short  of  sight  we  are,) 


THE    ASSASSINATION   OF   PRESIDENT   GAKFIEID.       269 

"  'Tis  non-fulfillment  of  our  soul  felt  prayer," 
In  some  mysterious  way,  least  understood, 
All  things  are  working  for  the  greatest  good. 

So,  when  at  Garfield's  sudden  death,  a  pall, 
Fell  at  each  door,  and  o'er  the  hearts  of  all, 
And  night  seem'd  settled  in,  and  deep  despair 
To  mock  the  earnestness  of  heart-felt  prayer, 
And  faith  seem'd  yielding  up  the  field  to  doubt, 
And  thickest  gloom  was  in,  and  round  about, 
This  strange  mysterious  power  was  blending  then 
The  roughest  corners  of  the  hearts  of  men ; 
And  by  the  touch  of  grief,  as  by  design, 
Made  all  our  feelings  one  ;  and  every  line 
'Twixt  factions  and  all  parties  seeking  power; 
Bade  melt  away  in  that  most  trying  hour  - 
Discords  to  be  forgot,  and  feuds,  and  selfish  pride; 
And  foes  to  mingle  tears  that  he  had  died. 
Thus,  with  the  cords  of  love  was  bound  anew, 
The  nation's  scroll  of  red,  and  white,  and  blue. 

God  of  our  fathers,  who  in  days  bygone, 

Didst  hear  the  prayer  of  our  lov'd  Washington, 

While  praying  with  his  naked  sword  full  drawn, 

And  victory  gave  his  arms  in  that  dark  hour, 

And  to  his  people,  liberty  and  power, 

Who  didst  behold  us  in  our  deep  distress, 

By  meager  want  and  tyranny  oppress'd  ; 

And  when  we  cried  from  out  these  depths  of  grief, 

Didst  send  to  us  a  swift  and  sure  relief, — 

O  be  our  heavenly  dispensator  still, 


270      THE    ASSASSINATION    OF    PRESIDENT    GAKFIELD. 

And  this  great  nation's  cup  with  blessings  fill ; 

O  break  the  clouds  of  darkness  and  of  sin, 

And  let  the  light  of  truth  and  virtue  in  — 

Lst  it  shine  down  into  the  nation's  soul, 

And  the  straight  gates  to  Wisdom's  fields  unfold; 

That  all  her  councils  may  walk  in  and  view," 

The  public  good,  redundant  germ  anew; 

Like  precious  seeds  o'er  fields  profusely  strown, 

Each  bearing  some  fair  blossoms  of  its  own, 

That  in  some  fragrant  and  enticing  way, 

Foreshadow  better  times,  and  brighter  day. 


HUMAN    WEAKNESS.  271 


HUMAN  WEAKNESS. 


Ah  man!  unconscious  he  of  his  own  frailties, 
He  seldom  deems  life  fleeting  as  a  dream 
And  transcient  as  an  autumn's  flower,  which  dies 
Within  the  winter's  blast:  and  that  so  he 
Must  perish  soon  before  the  blasts  of  time. 

What  countless  numbers  glut  the  insatiate  grave, 
Whose  crumbled  bones,  now  humbled  into  dust 
Have  many  ages  past  been  lost  in  death, 
The  fearful  secrets  of  oblivion's  shrine. 
The  mighty  monarch  and  the  humble  sage, 
The  war-like  chieftain  and  the  hermit  low, 
The  shameful  coward  and  the  hero  bold, 
In  awful  silence  all  are  slumbering  there. 

Thousands  upon  unnumber'd  thousands  throng'd, 
Have  here  been  hurried  down — drain'd  of  life's  blood- 
To  quench  the  lust,  the  vile  polluting  lust, 
Which  proud  ambition  gives  to  hearts  as  frail. 

Life  puts  out  life  and  draws  the  dismal  veil, 
And  all  seem  hurrying  one  another  on 
Toward  that  verge,  where  roll  just  underneath, 
Black  mysteries  and  horrors  cloth'd  in  death. 


272  HUMAN   WEAKNESS. 

Vast  crowds,  pushing  still  greater  crowds  along, 
Have  leap'd  this  dark  abyss,  and  disappear'd 
Amid  destruction's  all-consuming  waves; 
Yea,  countless,  overwhelming  numbers  there 
Have  sunk  enguli'd  from  whence  they  rise  no  more. 

Where  now  are  those  who  lived  when  time  was  young, 
Before  revolving  centuries  had  plow'd 
Their  furrows  in  her  brow?     Those  living  ones, 
Who  lofty  Thebes  and  mighty  Carthage  knew, 
Cities  then  great  on  earth,  now  only  known 
To  fame,  and  lisp'd  upon  the  tongues  of  men, 
Alone  where  they  were  then,  his  pride,  and  seat 
Of  empires,  science  and  the  god  of  war? 
Who  then  from  thither  turned  wild  havoc  loose 
Upon  Earth's  sons,  and  breath'd  out  fume  and  gore. 

Where  are  the  hands  which  heap'd  Egyptian  piles, 
Now  standing  up  above  all  other  works 
Of  man,  exulting,  triumphs  over  fame? 
No  marble  marks  where  humbled  lies  their  dust, 
But  mountains  heap'd  by  hands  bespeak  the  shame 
Of  some,  who  once  inglorious,  vainly  lived, 
And  died  dishonored,  soon  to  sink  from  sight, 
While  time  roll'd  'round  a  darker  curtain  still. 

Egypt  has  sunk,  with  all  her  art  and  power, 
Cities  and  kings,  her  throne  itself  inter'd 
Beneath  the  dust  of  ruins  and  the  weight 
Of  years.     While  the  majestic  Nile  rolls  on 
As  proudly  in  its  flow,  as  when  these  were, 


HUMAN   WEAKNESS.  273 

In  all  their  pride,  magnificence,  and  show, 
And  sat  triumphant  on  times  stormy  sea. 

Where  now  are  scienced  Greece,  and  powerful  Rome, 
Greatest  among  the  nations  of  the  dead, 
And  whose  great  fame  with  loudest  echo  now, 
From  far,  comes  booming  o'er  the  jostling  waves, 
Which  show'd  the  lapse  of  ages  in  their  shrine? 

Alas !  how  transitory  human  life, 

And  vain  each  sublunary  joy!     Fleet  as 

The  passing  winds  which  kiss  our  fever'd  brows 

One  moment,  then  are  gone — forever  gone. 

Or  like  fantastic  bubbles  in  the  air 

We  lightly  touch — they  burst  and  all  is  o'er. 

O  mortal  man!     Where  is  your  boasted  power? 
"Lord  of  the  Earth:"  yet  creature  of  an  hour, 
Is  this  your  boast?  The  noblest  work  of  God? 
Yet,  soon  you  die  and  moulder  neath  the  sod. 

Vain  Creature !  but  look  up — behold  hills 

And  valleys  change,  to  grow  more  beauteous  still, 

The  sea  in  all  its  majesty  rolls  on 

As  it  was  wont  thousands  of  years  ago; 

So  sweeps  the  Earth  th'rough  space  upon  its  rounds; 

And  the  same  skies  look  down  and  smile  as  smil'd 

In  Adam's  time.     These  look  into  the  face 

Of  time  unmar'd,  unwrinkled,  unreprov'd, 

Laugh  at  its  rage  and  baffle  all  its  power; 

While  we  yet  gazing  fall  as  autumn's  leaves 


274  HUMAN   WEAKNESS. 

Lifeless  and  sere,  as  soon  to  crumble  back 

To  mother  dust.     And  art  thou  boasting  still? 

Dispel  those  clouds  now  hovering  o'er  the  past, 

And  look  far  up  the  rugged  gulf  of  time, 

Behold  unnumbered  generations  heap'd 

On  generations,  slumbering  long  before 

Strew  the  long  way;  and  mighty  nations  wrcck'd 

Sleep  on  their  silent  tombs,  till  rises  up 

Forgetf illness,  and  throws  its  misty  form 

Across  the  way.     From  thence  yon  simple  star 

Emerges  forth  and  glides,  a  silent  watch 

O'er  all  these  scenes — crown  and  empires  crumbled. 

Deem* yourselves  still  God's  noblest  workmanship9 

Look  out  upon  the  landscape  rob'd  in  fields 

And  forests,  as  in  beauty's  garb.     Behold 

How  insignificant  you  are  to  these; 

Then  stretch  imagination  out  and  grasp 

The  world:  the  landscape  sinks  to  a  mere  spot 

Upon  the  rolling  sphere.     Then  soar  far  out 

Into  infinity  of  space;  see  here 

How  world  is  link'd  to  world,  and  sun  to  sun, 

Till  comprehension  strives  to  grasp  in  vain : 

Still,  beyond,  sphere  on  sphere  rolls  proudly  on, 

Away  in  the  dim  distance  all  unknown, 

And  each  a  nobler  one  than  thjs  which  shrinks 

Into  a  grain  of  sand  on  ocean's  shore, 

When  in  this  universal  balance  weigh'd; 

And  what  becomes  of  boasting  man?    A  speck 

Of  dust — yea  insignificance  wrap'd  up 

In  insignificance. 


HUMAN   WEAKNESS.  275 

O  fragile  worm, 

Self  elated,  self  puff'd  up !     You  hold 
Yourselves  as  gods,  e'en  while  your  worthless  lives 
Are  flickering  as  the  just  expiring  lamp; 
And  your  frail  fabrics  crumbling  back  to  dust. 

And  even  thought,  that  boasted  gift,  which  lifts 
You  from  the  brute,  and  wings  give  to  the  soul, 
E'en  in  its  loftiest  flight,  but  clip  life's  cord, 
And  like  a  kite  with  severed  string,  it  swoons, 
And  reels  and  falls,  a  drunkard  to  the  ground. 

Decay  and  ruin  glides  upon  life's  stream 
Of  which  the  gulf  of  death  doth  swallow  all ; 
And  o'er  this  gulf  most  awful  terrors  hang, 
More  appalling  far  than  Egypt's  thickest  night; 
Wild  fancy  frighten'd  wheels  and  screams  above — 
Now  stoops,  hears  thousands  groaning  as  they  sink, 
Then  wheels  again  fear  trembling  every  plume 
Herself  alas!  to  be  envelop'd  soon. 

'Twas  but  as  yesterday  that  I  looked  out 

Upon  my  morning  sun,  which  rising  rob'd 

All  things  about  in  rain-bow  -loveliness; 

And  all  along  the  path  opened  the  flowers 

Of  life's  most  cherished  joys.     Pleased  these  looked  up 

Wafting  sweet  fragrance  on  each  passing  breeze, 

While  golden  clouds  flew  o'er  my  azure  skies, 

And  hopes,  like  dew  drops,  sparkled  wealth  and  fame, 

And  present  pleasures  seem'd  to  on  me  smile. 


276  HUMAN   WEAKNESS. 

Sleep  flapp'd  its  wings  and  drew  its  shadows  o'er 

My  eyes.     I  dream'd  a  dream,  and  looked  again, 

That  sun  look'd  down  from  its  meridian  hight — 

Chang'd  was  every  prospect  far  and  near ; 

The  flowers  had  doff'd  their  fairest  hues — the  clouds 

Their  brightest  plumes — hope's  dews  had  vanish'd  and 

Fantastic  pleasures  flown.     And  while  I  stood 

Yet  gazing — that  sun  pass'd  the  zenith  by 

And  swiftly  push'd  along  the  western  sky 

Nearing  the  fatal  eve.     Too  soon  to  sink 

If  not  pluck'd  out  midway  upon  its  course. 

And,  Oh  what  darkness,  needs  must  then  ensue. 

Methiuks  I  see  it  now  dragging  its  shades 

Of  gloom,  to  thwart  my  noblest  aims.     Yet  what 

Am  I?     An  insect  of  a  fleeting  day, 

And  what  my  aims?     Are  these  not  less  than  I? 

Then  what  have  I  to  ask  of  Fated  death? 

To  live,  would  be  a  favor  lent  a  worm ; 

To  die,  a  bubble  broken  in  a  storm. 

Since  fleeting  then  is  life  and  full  of  pain, 
Have  we  not  something  higher  to  obtain? 
And  since  within  this  world,  'tis  mine  to  die,' 
O  give  my  longing  soul  to  the  Most  High. 


DEATH   OF   A   YOUNG   PHYSICIAN.  277 


LINES  WRITTEN  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG 

PHYSICIAN  OF  GREAT  SKILL 

AND  PROMISE. 


That  fearful  sound  is  ringing1  in  our  ears, 

A  sound  so  often  heard  yet  heeded  not, 

When  strong  men  fall,  mid  sighs  and  groans  and  tears, 

And  sink  from  sight  too  soon  to  be  forgot; 

The  shades  of  death  the  young  and  old  conceal ; 

Each  year  commits  new  treasures  to  their  trust, 

While  we  who  live  seem  not  to  think  or  feel, 

That  life  is  vapor,  and  our  bodies  dust, 

That  judgement  is  at  hand,  and  that  the  judge  is  just. 

To  him  in  early  life  came  death's  array, 

When  all  his  hopes  were  high  and  skies  were  fair, 

Blighting  lifes  fairest  prospects  in  a  day, 

And  his  companion  blanching  with  despair. 

"Death  loves  a  shining  mark;"  and  such  was  he 

Who  late  was  smitten  by  its  fated  aim, 

Bright  with  a  cultur'd  mind  in  each  degree, 

The  which  when  burning  put  all  quacks  to  shame, 

For  all  pretenders  cowered  before  its  reaching  flame. 


278  DEATH    OF    A    YOUNG    PHYSICIAN. 

'Twas  his  in  life  the  healing  art  to  wield 

With  master  hand — to  wear  with  human  woe — 

And  bring  such  arms  on  each  contested  field 

As  best  would  serve  to  smite  the  dreaded  foe, 

And  give  to  health  the  victory  from  that  hour. 

He  was  of  moral  worth,  a  Christian  true, 

A  man  of  intellect,  of  force,  of  power, 

And  his  great  loss  society  must  rue 

And  memory  give  to  him  his  much  deserving  due. 


With  care  he  scan'd  diseases  of  mankind, 
Probed  up  the  hidden  cause  how  e'er  conceal'd, 
And  viewed  its  hydra  form.     Facts  hid  and  blind 
He  brought  to  light;  their  secrets  all  reveal'd, 
Which  being  known,  the  victory  soon  he  won, 
And  made  the  beacon  light  of  health  to  shine, 
Where  torture  just  had  rack'd,  and  pain  had  stung. 
Aided  by  skill  and  science  well  refin'd,' 
Our  sufferings  to  relieve  he  bent  a  giant  mind. 

Though  young,  'twas  his  to  treasure  truth  within; 

With  this  he  measur'd  other  men  with  care; 

No  trifler  vain  could  his  approval  win, 

But  moral  worth  he  prized,  and  humble  prayer. 

A  noble  soul,  to  noble  purpose  bent, 

Life's  page  with  worthy  deeds  he  pictured  well, 

And  since  so  well,  is  not  his  spirit  sent 

To  realms  of  bliss  of  human  worth  to  tell, 

While  dismal  in  our  ears  still  rings  the  solemn  knell? 


DEATH    OF    A   YOUNG    PHYSICIAN.  279 

But  death  bears  off  its  victims  its  own  way, 
So  he  was  borne,  on  the  same  torture's  rack, 
For  which  he  was  renown'd  within  his  day, 
For  raising  others  from:  he  pushing  back 
Disease  which  threatening  danger  hung  around. 
When  fated  death  had  summon'd  him  away, 
Like  other  men  he  fell — life  seem'd  run  down — 
And  left,  deep  down,  within  our  hearts  that  day, 
A  monument  of  grief  unwasted  by  decay. 


280  ON   THE    DEATH   OF   A   YOUNG    BOY. 


LINES  WRITTEN  ON  THE  DEATH  OF 
A  YOUNG  BOY. 


Relentlessly  the  hand  of  death 
Came  with  resistless  power, 

And  bore  away  the  vital  breath 
Of  one  sweet  precious  flower. 

A  little  boy,  with  bright  blue  eyes, 
Gifted  from  heaven  above, 

And  in  our  hearts  he  wove  the  ties 
Of  the  most  precious  lov£. 

Such  love  as  feels  the  inmost  soul 
And  twines  our  very  lives, 

Nor  pain  nor  death  that  controls 
But  that  it  still  survives. 

It's  object  mirror'd  in  the  breast, 
That  object  moves  and  lives, 

Deep  in  our  very  mem'ries  press'd, 
The  keenest  feeling  gives. 


ON   THE   DEATH   OF   A   YOUNG   BOY.  281 

To  think  that  he  is  now  no  more 
Who  had  such  power  to  charm; 

Whom  oft  so  tenderly  we  bore 
In  our  protecting  arms. 

Cold  are  those  lips  our  lips  nave  press'd, 
And  still'd  that  lisping  tongue, 

Which  oft  such  accents  sweet  express'd, 
And  fondest  music  rung. 

That  form  is  clasp'd  in  icy  chains, 

And  veil'd  that  smiling  face, 
No  more  there  burns  the  vital  flame 

Or  sparkles  thought  or  grace. 

The  body's  dust  to  dust  returns, 

O  where  the  living  soul ! 
T?or  which  our  inmost  feelings  yearn, 

Oh  where?     Pass'd  to  its  goal 

In  heaven  above  for  Christ's  own  sake 

For  thus  it  is  express'd, 
"These  little  lambs,"  says  he,  "I  take 

And  lay  them  in  my  breast." 


282  A  LOVE   LETTER. 


A  LOVE  LETTEE  OF  EAKLY  MANHOOD  IN 
ANSWER  TO  ONE  BLINDLY  WRITTEN 
BY  A  YOUNG  LADY  AND  CLASS 
MATE  OF  THE  AUTHOP 


Dear  one,  forgive  if  I  again  should  speak, 

I  would  not  be  presumptuous,  but  would  seek 

To  cast  this  pond'rous  burden  from  my  breast, 

Now  crushing  peace  and  murdering  all  my  rest. 

I  mean  that  burden  huge  of  anxious  care 

Roll'd  to  and  fro  twixt  hope  and  fell  despair; 

For  who  can  live«when  such  emotions  war, 

Driving  from  side  to  side  the  weighty  car 

Of  deep  anxiety,  which,  as  it  rolls, 

Grinds  neath  its  tread,  the  heart  strings  of  the  soul? 

I've  looked  deep  down  into  those  speaking  eyes 

Seen  welling  up  within  rich  thoughts  arise, 

And  noble  feelings,  treasures  of  the  mind 

And  heart,  and  felt,  in  one  so  wise  and  kind 

I  faithfully  could  trust;  for  this  I  knew, 

My  love  for  you  was  pure  and  deep  and  true ; 

That  such  I  thought  you  were,  I  need  not  say, 

It  is  enough  that  you  have  borne  away 

The  center  of  my  life;  and  me  once  free 

By  your  sweet  virtuous  charms,  made  bow  to  thee. 


A   LOVE   LETTER.  283 

The  secret  spell  which  works  from  heart  to  heart 
I  thought  would  twine  our  own,  and  joy  impart 
To  each.     But  now  what  rests?     Shall  it  be  mine 
To  love  alone,  and  worship  at  your  shrine, 
While  you  cannot  a  warmer  title  breathe 
Than  friend?     Can  you  a  heart  so  full,  thus  leave 
To  sigh  unheard  amid  a  world  of  care, 
And  unreturn'd  save  by  the  empty  air? 

Surely,  that  noble  soul  within  your  breast 
Would  not  permit.     Say  then  that  I  possess 
Your  unpledged  heart.     In  me  your  trust  confide 
As  I  have  mine  in  you,  and  let  the  tide 
Of  deep  affection  flow  from  soul  to  soul 
Wakening  in  each,  pure  joys  beyond  control. 

I've  look'd  into  the  joyous  school  boy's  face, 
And  he  has  smil'd — have  clusp'd  in  my  embrace 
The  tiny  child — that  too,  though  small  and  meek, 
Has  press'd  its  infant  lips  upon  my  cheek ; 
And  with  a  joy  which  blesses  human  kind 
Pour'd  out  an  over  flowing  heart  in  mine. 
I've  joy'd  to  find  a  pleasure  thus,  and  feel 
The  bliss,  which  youthful  innocence  can  yield. 

But  what  from  her  I've  held  most  dear, 

I've  mingl'd  not  a  sigh,  no,  nor  a  tear, 

One  look  of  meaning  full  we've  scarce  exchang'd; 

And  why?     Affairs  at  school  were  so  arrang'd 

That  they  would  not  permit;  yet  still  within 

I  felt  there  was  a  power  at  work  to  win 


284  A  LOVE   LETTER. 

For  you  the  noblest  feelings  of  my  heart. 
Of  this,  you  may  have  been  aware,  for  art 
Can  not  conceal  such  feelings,  when  they  rise 
They  flush  the  cheek ;  and  look  from  out  the  eyes. 

In  vain  I  whisper'd,  "Cease!  Be  still!"  in  vain 
I  strove  to  check  the  rising  sigh :     The  flame 
At  each  attempt  grew  bright  and  brighter  still 
And  rent  its  bonds,  I  yielding  to  its  will. 

I  wrote.     Your  answer  came.     I  said  "'twas  kind," 

But  oh  how  cold,  how  distant,  and  how  blind, 

And  yet  how  beautiful.     How  oft  I've  read, 

And  it  as  oft  a  novel  thought  hath  bred 

Of  what  yon  mean.     Am  I  a  man  to  fear? 

I  thought  you  knew  myself  far  better,  dear. 

Do  you  spurn  my  heart,  and  must  I  plead  in  vain? 

Friendship  would  add  but  fuel  to  the  flame 

Of  anguish  which  would  rise  to  scorch  each  vein ; 

Boil  my  life's  blood  and  steep  my  fever'd  brain. 

Friendship  from  such  a  noble  source,  if  pure, 

Would  be  a  worthy  boon  to  cherish,  sure, 

Were  there  no  deeper  feelings  in  the  heart; 

But  when  there  are,  'twould  add  a  venom'd  smart 

To  disappointed  hope:  for,  the  lost  prize 

In  sight,  can  naught  but  wound  the  loser's  eyes, 

But,  dearest,  come,  be  as  a  sister,  free, 
Unfold  the  secrets  of  your  heart  to  me ; 
I'll  strive  to  worthy  prove  of  every  trust; 
If  I  do  not,  my  judge  be  God,  the  just. 


A   LOVE   LETTER.  285 

Say  I  can  hope  for  a  return  from  thee 

Of  all  I  feel,  and  you  have  given  me 

That  blessing  which  you  wish'd  that  I  might  share ; 

And  heaven  repay,  shall  be  my  earnest  prayer. 

And  now  an  answer  let  me  meekly  crave 
Such  as  shall  bless ;  and  on  this  heart  engrave 
A  joy ; — a  heart,  though  widely  spaced  from  thine 
And  yet  a  thousand  cords — with  it  entwine. 

May  peace  and  bliss  your  walks  through  life  attend, 
Angels  direct  you,  and  may  God  defend. 


286  FOB  A  SISTER'S  ALBUM. 


LINES  WRITTEN  FOR  A  SISTER'S  ALBUM. 


Dear  Sister  Sayte,  aiong  life's  crowded  way 
Eventful  changes  meet  us  every  day ; 
We're  forced  to  choose  between  the  right  and  wrong, 
To  make  the  choice  in  haste  and  pass  along. 

The  choice  of  right,  the  gates  of  truth  unfolds, 
And  grafts  the  buds  of  virtue  in  our  souls ; 
The  choice  of  wrong,  attracts,  allures  awhile, 
But  soon  to  woe  is  chang'd  th'  alluring  smile. 

It  has  been  yours  in  life,  to  choose  the  right, 
And  virtue's  buds  are  bursting  now  to  sight; 
May  it  be  ours,  to  prove  each  other  true, 
Till  life  eternal  heaves  its  shores  in  view. 


BAY   VIEW,  THE   BEAUTIFUL.  287 


BAY  VIEW,  THE  BEAUTIFUL. 


LINES    WRITTEN    BY    INSPIRATION    RECEIVED     AT     FIRST 
SIGHT  OF  BAY  VIEW,  WHILE  MAKING  A  TOUR  OF 
THE    GREAT    LAKES,    UNDER    CIRCUM 
STANCES   DESCRIBED   IN   THE 
POEM  IN  A.  D.  1891. 


From  Chicago,  queen  city,  and  great  western  mart 
I  drew  near  to  Bay  View,  much  renown'd  for  her  art, 
Now  being  prais'd  widely  as  a  summer  resort, 
And  which  frequented  is  both  for  learning  and  sport. 
Where  Beauty  most  gladly  spreads  wide  her  domain, 
And  people  from  'far  come  to  witness  her  reign. 

I  was  borne  o'er  the  lake  in  a  ship  fleet  and  gay 
On  one  beautiful  night  in  the  fair  month  of  May, 
And  as  morning  broke  in,  both  peaceful  and  proud, 
We  look'd  for  shore  land  marks,  and  saw  a  dense  cloud, 
Which  lined  all  that  shore  like  great  mountains  of  snow, 
And  reach'd  far  above  us,  and  seem'd  to,  below. 


288  BAY   VIEW,  THE   BEAUTIFUL. 

We  enter'd  that  fog-cloud  which  covered  the  bay, 
Through  which  we  grop'd  slowly,  now  feeling  our  way, 
To  land  at  Petosky  which  east  of  us  lay. 
Our  vessel  soon  anchor'd,  not  daring  to  ride, 
And  whistling  most  loudly,  thus  called  for  a  guide ; 
When  a  voice  from  the  fog- bell  rush'd  through  the  gray 
With  loud  peals  ringing  out,  "This  way!     Come  this 
way!" 

On  hearing  we  look'd  with  astonishment  'round, 

As  we  knew  not  from  whence  proceeded  the  sound. 

When  in  earnestness,  thu^  spoke  one  of  our  crew, 

"We've  run  by  Petosky  and  are  near  to  Bay  View. 

About  this  strange  place  there's  a  strange  story  told, 

A  legend  among  the  wild  Indians  of  old ; 

How  the  souls  of  the  fathers,  year  after  year 

In  great  congregations  are  gathering  here, 

And  confuse  every  sound  which  reaches  the  ear, 

Whether  scream  of  the  gull,  or  catamount  wild, 

Or  chirp  of  a  bird,  or  the  sobs  of  a  child; 

All  alike  they  confuse  both  the  great  and  the  small, 

And  what  they  do  to  one,  so  do  they  to  all. 

Of  its  truth  we  bear  witness  on  this  very  day, 

For  where  is  that  fog-bell?     There's  no  one  can  say." 

When  all  on  a  sudden,  as  if  order'd  to  do, 

That  great  cloud  uplifted,  seem'd,  splitting  in  two ; 

One  half  going  up,  and  the  other  half  down, 

Till  no  sign  of  a  cloud  was  any  where  found 

And  we,  kiss'd  by  sunshine,  surprised  look'd  around. 


BAY   VIEW,  THE   BEAUTIFUL.  289 

And  Bay  View  lay  before  us,  spread  out  like  a  map, 
Bay  View,  the  beautiful,  as  refresh'd  by  a  nap, 
And  child-like  reclining  in  great  Nature's  lap. 

High  terrace  o'er  terrace  sublimely  arose, 

Each  one  cottage  crown'd  nowseem'd  fresh  from  repose ; 

In  long  lines  extending  far  to  the  southwest, 

Where  converging,  they  seem'd  into  one  to  be  press'd 

As  if  here  they  were  grasp'd  by  some  gigantic  hand, 

And  firmly  so  held  since  creation  began- 

From  where  they  spread  out  very  much  like  a  fan, 

As  northeastward  in  course  in  curv'd  lines  they  ran. 

On  the  right  and  the  left  were  meandering  rills, 
Which  laugh'd  as  they  leap'd  from  the  far-away  hills. 
These  rills  joining  rills  on  their  half  hidden  way, 
Their  waters  commingl'd  pour'd  into  the  bay; 
Whose  blueness  of  wave  did  the  heavens  outvie, 
As  it  pictured  beneath  that  bright  morning  sky, 
Where,  image  most  perfect  all  thing  I  could  see, 
Each  nook  on  each  shore,  and  each  leaf  on  each  tree. 

In  this  same  perfection  there  appear'd  to  be  now, 
These  same  hills  underneath,  and  on  either's  brow 
Bright  beauty  had  hung  her  fair  wreath  evergreen, 
And  with  her  skill'd  fingers  had  shaped  every  scene, 
And  those  men  of  worth  who  had  bow'dat  hej*  shrine, 
Unlike  to  all  others  who  cultivate  design, 
Had  follow'd  out  nature's,  more  perfect  and  quaint 
Which  heavens  great  Architect  only  can  paint. 


290  BAY   VIEW,  THE    BEAUTIFUL. 

As  a  frame  to  a  mirror  'round  this  bay  had  been  thrown 
A  circle  quite  ample  all  pav'd  with  white  stone, 
Which  with  corals  and  shells  like  the  galaxy  shone. 

And  I  thought  to  myself  had  I  power  at  command, 
Wherewith  I  could  wield  this  nature's  great  fan, 
This  bay  as  an  emblem  of  purity  near, 
With  the  breeze  of  this  morn  so  blithe  and  so  clear 
I  would  winnow  all  vice  from  the  souls  of  mankind 
And  leave  naught  but  virtue  to  bloom  in  the  mind. 

By  these  scenes  enraptur'd  and  day  just  begun, 
Which  my  admiration  completely  had  won  ; 
I  long'd  now  to  witness  Bay  View's  setting  sun, 
Whose  unsurpass'd  beauties  to  me  had  been  told, 
And  the  canvas  there  used  hid  away  in  my  soul, 
All  painted  in  azure  and  silver  and  gold. 

But  our  vessel  weigh'd  anchor  and  slowly  withdrew, 

As  I  said,  lovely  scenes,  I  bid  you  adieu, 

Farewell  bay  of  beauty,  and  good  bye  to  Bay  View. 


THE    OLD   HOMESTEAD.  291 


LINES  WRITTEN  TO  A  BROTHER  ON  A  VISIT 
TO  THE  OLD  HOMESTEAD. 


In  my  hurried  array  I  arrived  the  next  day, 

Where  we  children  had  play'd,  in  the  evergreen  shade 

In  the  door  yard,  we  all  lov'd  so  well. 

And  there  came  to  my  mind  those  voices  so  kind, 

Of  mother's  so  dear,  and  father's  so  clear, 

And  on  them  it  pleas'd  me  to  dwell ; 

Where  the  songs  of  the  birds,  and  lowings  of  herds, 
And  the  hum  of  the  bees  and  rustling  of  leaves, 
Had  oft  fill'd  our  ears  with  delight; 
Where  flowers  so  gay  stretch'd  in  clusters  away 
With  a  carpet  of  green  spread  all  over  between, 
Were  wont  to  enrapture  the  sight. 

Where  the  children  at  play  at  the  close  of  the  day 
With  their  countenance  gay  in  an  innocent  way, 
Were  joyful  to  welcome  us  home. 
In  that  beautiful  shade  where  we  often  have  play'd 
That  lov'd  turf  by  our  feet  no  longer  was  beat, 
The  grass  tall  and  thrifty  had  grown. 


292  THE   OLD   HOMESTEAD. 

And  those  faces?     O  say!     Have  they  all  pass'd  away? 
Yes,  indeed,  and  how  strange — a  few  years  and  a  change 
Had  been  wrought.     I  stood  here  alone 
But  the  old  house  in  main  was  still  just  the  same, 
And  its  rooms  once  so  dear,  forc'd  the  unbidden  tear, 
As  I  thought  of  our  childhood  now  flown. 


TWO   CONTENTIOUS   BOYS.  293 


TWO  CONTENTIOUS  BOYS. 

LINES  WRITTEN  ON  AN  ALTERCATION  WHICH  TOOK  PLACE 

THROUGH   THE  PRESS  BETWEEN  AN  EDITOR   AND  A 

LAWYER,  JUST  BEFORE  THE  WRITING  OF  THE 

POEM,  WHICH  WAS  PUBLISHED  TO 

SILENCE  SUCH  ALTERCATION. 


'Twas  of  late,  strange  to  say,  that  two  children,  quite 

small 

Fell  to  wrangling,  in  sooth,  and  soon  in  their  brawl, 
As  if  tattling  to  ma,  fill'd  the  press  with  their  cries, 
Calling  out  to  the  public,  "he  lies,"  ma,  "he  lies." 

About  what  or  how  this  contention  begun, 
We  know  not,  nor  care,  but  believe  it  was  rum, 
Or  because  one  of  these  boobies  led  a  church  choir 
And  thereby  turned  into  a  musical  liar. 

But  soon  it  assum'd  a  still  higher  key, 
To  that  of  torn  shirt,  and  their  own  pedigree, 
Of  saw-mill  vacated,  and  school  rooms  abus'd, 
Of  ladies  insulted,  and  self  deem'd  misused; 
In  short,  none  in  town  could  e'er  be  so  mean, 


294  TWO   CONTENTIOUS   BOYS. 

As  he,  the  aforesaid,  the  all-forlorn  green, 
Who  some  one  had  said  should  father  some  more 
Than  those  with  whom  he  is  charged — perhaps,  three 
or  four. 

But  now  came  the  turn  for  the  other  to  cry : 

"He  charges  James  Green,  but  James  Green  is  not  I, 

And  loses  what  dignity  he  of  late  bought 

By  enlarging  his  sheet ;  though  'tis  hard  to  split  aught. 

He  said  that  I  lied,  but  'tis  very  welt  known, 

That  this  is  but  one  of  his  numerous  own. 

And  if  the  Reporter  man  seeks  to  discuss 

Suppos'd  parentage,  for  him  Green's  is  enough ; 

And  can  point  to  him  one  who  said  he  had  sired, 

One  more  at  least  than  he  ever  desired; 

And  who  to  another  had  bragg'd  in  his  talk, 

While  once  in  New  Jersey  of  giving  in  stock 

Not  to  a  bank ;  but  to  something  more  thrifty, 

And  that  to  the  tune  of  four  hundred  and  fifty." 

And  then  his  old  gobbler,  he  recollects  well, 

He  thought  he  would  mate,  both  were  prime  on  a  swell. 

And  something  he  had  stuck  in  on  the  way, 

About  being  hostler  while  at  Hunda, 

And  there  receiving  a  free  soil  impression 

From  a  darkey  who  had  the  greater  discretion. 

Then  spoke  the  Reporter  man  earnest  and  long, 
Holding  up  to  the  public  the  scenes  of  his  wrong, 
Crying  out,  ho!  behold!  what  a  family  stain 
Stamp'd,  by  a  Green  both  by  nature  and  name; 


TWO   CONTENTIOUS   BOYS.  295 

We  are  bound  to  protect  and  defend  if  we  can, 
Ourselves  and  position  from  such  a  base  man, 
Who  even  while  daring  ourselves  to  deride, 
Would  seat  himself  down  by  our  warm  fireside. 

Then  he  calls  him  all  else  save  the  noble  and  good ; 
The  essence  distill'd  of  pure  niggerhood, 
A  low  minded  scoundrel,  and  heartless  with  all, 
A  dirty,  mean  puppy — small — very  small. 

Oh  what  fools  these  boys  are!  to  think  that  mankind, 
Are  so  void  of  reason  and  totally  blind, 
As  not  to  perceive  by  their  low  vulgar  strain, 
That  both  are  in  fault,  and  that  both  are  to  blame, 
For  polluting  the  press  with  their  little  low  lies, 
When  the  truth  would  be  hid,  were  they  but  wise. 

But  hold,  my  kind  friends,  ere  you  censure  too  much 
Just  consider  the  source  from  whence  proceeds  such, 
For  well  known  it  has  been  this  number  of  years, 
"Tis  hard  for  an  ass  to  conceal  his  long  ears;" 
And  that  boys  oft  before  with  quite  too  much  brass, 
Have  reveal'd  even  more  than  the  old  fabled  ass. 


296  THE   WORKS   OF   NATURE. 


HOW  NOBLE  ARE  THE  WORKS  OF  NATURE. 


How  noble  are  nature's  mysterious  ways, 
From  her  simplest  forms  to  her  grandest  displays, 
From  the  lamp  of  the  glow-worm  so  pale  on  the  ground, 
To  the  four  forked  lightning,  which  glitters  around, 
From  the  twinkling  of  stars,  half  beclouded  at  night, 
To  the  sunbeams  of  day  cloth' d  in  majesty  bright, 
Or  the  palest  of  twilight,  when  night  has  begun, 
To  the  full-glowing  moon,  or  the  bright  dazzling  sun. 

From  the  breath  of  the  evening, or  summer's  soft  breeze, 
To  the  rage  of  the  cyclone,  and  temptest-tost  seas; 
From  the  gurgling  of  brooks  as  their  pebbles  they  lave, 
To  the  rushing  of  floods,  and  the  dashing  of  waves, 
Or  from  rock-oozing- waters,  which  drip  evermore 
To  the  howling  of  seas  or,  the  cataract's  roar. 

From  the  simplest  of  seeds,  on  which  thoughtless  we 

tread, 

To  the  loftiest  cedar  which  waves  o'er  our  head ; 
From  the  small  grain  of  sand  in  earth  hidden  deep, 
To  the  gigantic  rock,  the  precipice  steep. 
From  the  smallest  of  insects  as  'round  us  it  whirls, 
To  the  movement  of  systems,  and  rolling  of  worlds; 
All  alike  are  sublime,  yea  noble  indeed, 
Nor  can  we  say  why,  except,  Grod  so  decreed. 


INCIDENT  AT  SCHOOL.  297 


INCIDENT  AT  SCHOOL. 


The  following  lines  were  written  on  an  incident  occuring  at  the 
school  then  attended  by  the  author.  Viz  :  Two  societies  in  that 
institution,  being  at  variance  with  each  other,  one  named  the  Or- 
phelian  Lyceum,  interpreted  meaning  Lovers  of  Eloquence,  sent 
a  challenge  to  the  Alleghaniau  Lyceum,  being  interpreted  from 
Indian,  meaning,  Head  of  the  Great,  which  society  had  also  been 
nick-named  by  the  former,  the  infant;  being  much  younger  than 
the  Orphelian.  The  challenge  was  accepted,  that  they  would  meet 
them,  as  both  societies  stood  at  the  University;  which  answer  was 
treated  with  contempt  by  the  former,  and  this  aroused  the  indig 
nation  of  the  latter.  The  whole  is  measurably  explained  by 
the  poem. 


Take  notice,  my  friends,  great  honor  is  due, 

From  all  noble  hearted,  from  me,  and  from  you ; 

For  a  recent  occurrence,  which  facts  I  will  state; 

The  Lovers  of  Eloquence,  known  in  debate, 

Sent  an  andacious  challenge  to  th'  Head  of  the  Great, 

Daring  this  body,  on  the  Fourth,  them  to  meet, 

And  measure  their  powers  by  inches  and  feet; 

Or  when  each  one  was  stretch'd  to  its  uttermost  swell, 

To  see  who  in  bombast,  perhaps  might  excel. 


298  INCIDENT  AT   SCHOOL. 

I 

But  this  once  noted  infant,  considered  meanwhile, 
And  found  that  in  years,  itself,  a  mere  child, 
Compared  to  that  hero  who  had  scatter' d  like  sand, 
His  strong-banded  forces,  abroad  in  the  land; 
And  sent  back  an  answer,  that  them  they  would  meet. 
Their  forces  with  theirs,  as  they  stood  at  the  seat; 
Students  with  students, they  would  measure  their  length 
Would  thus  number  their  words,  and  find  out  their 
strength. 

The  Orphelians  raged  and  such  a  reply, 

Some  laugh'd,  and  some  sneer'd,  and  some  blew  it 

sky-high; 

And  one  who  resembl'd  "the  fly  on  the  stake 
Of  a  coach  singing  out,  what  a  splatter  I  make," 
Addressing  the  chair,  like  the  dog  in  the  fable, 
Instantly  mov'd,  it  be  laid  under  the  table. 

"Mr.  President,  Sir,  I  second  the  motion," 
Sang  out  a  dozen  in  wildest  commotion. 

The  President  rose,   said,    "You've   heard   the   move 

stated; 

And  now  if  you  choose,  it  may  be  debated." 
"The  question" !  rung  hastily  out  here  and  there. 
"Sirs,  the  motion,"  said  the  dignified  chair, 
"You  have  heard,  those  who  favor  please  signify 
By  the  usual  sign."     All  cried  I!  I!  I! 
"Those  who  are  oppos'd."     But  silence  now  reigns. 
"Gentlemen,  its  carried.     What  farther  remains"? 

But,  I  must  be  brief,  then,  suffice  it  to  say, 

'Twas  mov'd  that  the  challenge  be  renew'd  the  next  day. 


INCIDENT  AT   SCHOOL.  299 

And  now  in  a  room,  near  the  east  chapel  door, 
Were  assembled  brave  youths, when  one  rose  to  the  floor, 
Informing  all  present,  he  held  in  his  hand 
Note  for  their  action,  as  they  might  command. 
And  being  called  on,  read  a  line  of  this  dye: 
"Alleghaimns,  Sirs,  we  received  the  reply 
To  the  challenge  we  sent,  to  meet  us  if  able, 
'Twas  duly  consider' d  and  laid  on  the  table; 
We  sent  you  no  challenge,  to  revise  or  amend, 
But  to  accept  or  reject,  and  now  sirs  we  send 
The  same  challenge  back  and  hope  on  the  start, 
Your  manhood  will  prompt'd  to  the  dignified  part. 
Respectfully  yours." 

Slow  to  anger,  they  mov'd, 
That  the  note  be  return'd,  uiimar'd,  unreprov'd; 
And  that  to  an  act,  so  little  and  low, 
They  never  would  stoop  to  deal  out  a  blow. 
For  the  proud  prancing  steed,  while  thundering  by, 
Heeds  not  the  slight  sting  of  the  small  simple  fly. 


300  AN  ACROSTIC. 


TIME.     AN  ACROSTIC. 


When  Time,  a  slumbering  infant  in  her  cradle  lay, 
And  Nature  yet  knew  not  her  own  unbounded  sway, 
Saw  not  the  secrets  of  the  earth,  or  skies  unlock'd, 
Heard  not  the  thunder  peal,  nor  felt  the  earthquake 

shock, 

In  darkness  lay  the  earth  and  air  in  death-like  sleep ; 
No  shape  or  form  was  there, except  one  shoreless  deep. 
God  spoke  the  word — the  waters  heaved  and  roll'd 

away, 
Then   land  appear'd.      And  gloom   was   changed   to 

living  day. 

On  roll'd  this  world  on  annual  and  diurnal  rounds, 
Nature  stood  forth  equip'd  and  seeming  without  bounds. 

All  onward  mov'd;  the  vast  machinery,  impell'd, 
Likewise    by    God's    all-guiding,   out-stretch'd    arm 

upheld, 

Victorious  shone  the  ever  dazzling  source  of  day, 
O'er  silvering  the  fair  moon  on  her  nocturnal  way. 
Returning  centuries  flew  swiftly  on,  and  on ; 
Dynasties  over  kingdoms  rose,  and  then  were  gone. 


AN  ACROSTIC.  301 

Eternally  roll'd  on  the  ceaseless  tide  of  time, 
Nothing  could  stem  its  current,  rushing  on  sublime; 
Guardless  were  borne  there  on  both  friends  and  foes ; 
Like  bubbles  on  a  stream  which  o'er  some  rapids  flows, 
Each  one  just  so  uncertain  when  his  life  shall  close. 

Almighty  God,  and  live  we  thus  day  after  day, 
Unmindful  that  our  lives  are  slipping  fast  away? 
Teach  us  in  tender  loving  kindness  how  to  live, 
Holding  before  our  view,  the  great  Prerogative. 
Order  our  erring  ways  as  suits  thy  great  behest, 
Eeceive  our  souls  at  last,  redeem'd  among  the  blest. 


302  ASSASSINATION    OF   PRESIDENT  LINCOLN. 


ASSASSINATION  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN. 


LINES  WRITTEN  ON  THE  ASSASSINATION  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN; 

SHOT  APRIL  15,  AND  DIED  APRIL  16,  A.  D.  1865        HIS  BODY  WAS 

TAKEN  TO  SPRINGFIELD,  ILLINOIS,  AND  THERE 

INTERRED   MAY  4,  A.  D.  1865. 


The  storm  cloud  of  rebellion  just  had  broke, 
And  from  the  field  of  war,  lifted,  the  smoke ; 
The  dying  groan  still  rang  in  memory's  ear, 
In  memory's  eye  still  stood  the  scalding  tear, 
For  sad  eternal  partings,  which  had  wrung 
The  nation's  soul,  and  to  its  mother's  clung. 

Prayer  had  gone  up  through  four  long  years  of  pain, 
Such  earnest  prayer  as  cannot  plead  in  vain ; 
And  now  stood  Hope,  the  fairest  of  the  fair, 
And  breathed  most  precious  promises  to  air. 
How  all  these  lov'd  ones  whose  endangered  lives 
Had  yet  survived  disease  and  battle  strifes, 
To  homes,  all  scattered  broadcast  through  the  land, 
Should  soon  return  and  take  the  welcome  hand ; 


ASSASSINATION    OF    PRESIDENT   LINCOLN.  303 

And  children  soon  again  should  know  the  bliss 

And  fullness  of  a  fathers  holy  kiss ; 

And  maidens,  too,  should  feel  the  ardent  vows, 

Of  love  reseal'd,  with  lips  upon  their  brows; 

And  faithful  wives  to  husbands  should  make  known, 

The  deeds,  and  cares,  and  trials  all  their  own. 

Richmond  had  fallen  with  a  sudden  crash ; 
Throughout  the  North,  the  news  as  sudden  flash'd; 
From  every  hamlet  rose  a  shout  of  praise, 
From  every  hill-top  bonfires  wildly  blazed, 
And  glad  rejoicing  were  among  the  free, 
That  war  was  soon  to  end  in  victory. 

While  thus  it  seem'd  the  dawning  of  the  day 
To  a  great  nation,  which  in  darkness  lay, 
An  awful  deed,  startling  as  earthquake's  throe, 
Shook  all  the  air,  and  burdened  it  with  woe 
And  they  who  had  unmoved,  heard  battles  roar, 
Unmoved  beheld  broad  fields  of  human  gore, 
Now,  trembling  stood,  as  the  sad  tidings  spread, 
"Lincoln  is  shot — is  dying — nearly  dead" 

The  heavens  above  thick-veil'd  their  stars  from  sight, 
And  wept  sad  tears,  on  that  momentous  night; 
When  by  the  assassin's  hand,  our  Lincoln  fell, 
And  heaven  seemed  thwarted  by  the  powers  of  hell. 

Then  there  were  anxious  eyes,  and  eager  ears, 
And  restless  feet,  and  lips  all  pale  with  fears, 
Which  trembled  as  they  spoke :  "Is  this  our  lot? 


304  ASSASSINATION   OF   PRESIDENT    LINCOLN. 

Our  Seward  stab'd,  our  much  loved  Lincoln  shot? 

The  victims  of  a  secret  hellish  plot ! 

O  who  can  say  where  such  foul  deed  will  end? 

And  who's  our  mortal  foe  and  who's  our  friend? 

What  of  our  fate?     And  where  on  earth  are  we? 

Has  the  old  world's  fell  spirit  cross'd  the  sea, 

Which  did  Amasa  and  a  Caesar  slay, 

And  down  the  ages  track'd  its  bloody  way, 

With  death-paved  footprints,  ever  now  and  then 

Crushing  the  lives  of  great  and  noble  men 

To  gratify  some  mean  and  selfish  end? 

Have  we  the  assassinating  spirit  caught, 

Which  to  the  old  world  has  such  misery  wrought"? 

"It  seems  we  have,  yet  seems  it  must  not  be 
That  our  fair  page  should  bear  the  infamy." 

And  then  the  spirit  of  revenge  arose, 

And  cried,  "out!  out!  on  the  assassins  close, 

And  bring  to  justice  in  right  speedy  time, 

All  who  in  least  are  privy  to  the  crime ; 

And  let  them  dangling  hang,  like  Haman,  high, 

A  warning  'gainst  such  deeds  of  perfidy." 

Thus  was  those  dreadful  hours  of  darkness  stir'd, 
With  strange  conjectures,  and  still  stranger  words; 
And  when  fair  morn  threw  wide  the  gates  of  light, 
A  cloud  of  gloom  and  woe  as  thick  as  night, 
Both  North  and  South  o'er  our  country  hung, 
And  its  dark  shadows  on  the  future  flung; 


ASSASSINATION   OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN.  305 

And  ere  was  reach'd  the  zenith  of«  that  day, 
The  soul  of  Lincoln  pass'd  from  Earth  away ; 
And  Seward  too,  with  bleeding  wounds  lay  low, 
Whether  to  live  or  die,  no  mortal  power  could  know. 

Freedom's  true  friend,  defender  of  her  laws, 

Had  given  life  a  ransom  for  her  cause, 

Seal'd  with  his  death.     And  with  his  blood  and  gore, 

Grief  wrote  its  solemn  name  on  every  door. 

The  nation's  pulse  was  staggered  and  stood  still; 

As  questioned  all,  "Who  can  his  station  fill"? 

And  answer  came  in  murmurs  deep  and  low, 

A  death-like  dirge,  "No  mortal  power  can  know." 

Four  days  and  nights  in  state  his  body  lay, 
The  nation  groan'd,  and  Mourning  made  display, 
Greatness  and  Wealth,  rich  garbs  of  sack-cloth  wore, 
And  deeply  crap'd  was  every  cottage  door. 

The  fleets  of  ocean  heard  our  mourning  cry, 
And  drooping  all  their  colors  made  reply, 
"Alas  how  sad  that  Lincoln  thus  should  die, 
Whose  purity  of  life  none  can  deny." 
Our  dear  old  flag,  that  record  of  the  past, 
On  all  our  vessels  proud  fell  to  half-mast, 
SigKd  in  each  breeze,  and  groan'd  in  every  blast. 

Way  down  on  Carolina's  distant  shore, 

Near  Kaleigh,  lay  brave  Sherman's  army  corps, 

Full  sixty  thousand  strong;     Men  of  true  tone, 

Whom  trials  had,  and  war's  worst  dangers  known. 

Renowned  for  skill  in  arms  and  bravery, 

In  the  famed  march  through  Georgia  to  the  sea. 


306  ASSASSINATION    OF   PRESIDENT  LINCOLN. 

These  for  their  President  held  noble  zeal ; 
Such  as  true  patriots  for  their  leaders  feel ; 
And  as  these  tiding  o'er  this  army  swept, 
Men  strong  and  brave  as  little  children  wept; 
While  over  all,  hung  a  deep,  doleful  gloom, 
Like  silent  grief  above  an  open  tomb. 

When  men  in  arms,  such  bitter  anguish  feel, 
O  what  can  stay  the  vengeance  of  their  steel? 
This,  noble  Discipline,  was  thine  to  do; 
And  thee,  each  of  these  soldiers  truly  knew, 
Else  had  rebellion  with  her  frontlet  high, 
Mangled  the  nation'd  Earth  without  a  why. 

But  now  each  choking  grief  within  his  breast, 

Thoughts  of  revenge  by  thee  was  quick  suppress'd, 

And  waving  all  their  banners  to  the  breeze, 

Each  dress'din  mourning  weeds  and  sorrowing  wreaths, 

With  undivided  shout  this  army  cries, 

"Long  live  the  cause  for  which  our  leader  dies." 

And  on  that  rising  shout  his  spirit  high, 

Seem'd  onward,  wafted  to  its  destiny, 

Which  to  each  earnest  voice  bore  witness  new, 

That  it  would  prove  that  acclamation  true. 

And  now  four  days  and  nights  had  found  an  end, 

Strangers  had  mourn'd,  and  friend  had  wept  with  friend. 

They  take  the  body  up  from  where  it  lay, 

And  through  great  cities  wind  their  northern  way. 

Like  waters  wild  the  people  surge  around, 

To  view  the  last  remains  of  the  renowned ; 

And  lowly  bending  with  uncovered  heads, 


ASSASSINATION   OF   PRESIDENT   LINCOLN.  307 

Show  humble  reverence  for  the  mighty  dead; 

Still  up  the  crowded  borders  of  the  main, 

This  car-borne  hearse,  and  cortage  in  its  train, 

Push  on  to  Philadelphia ;  where  of  old, 

Our  fathers  made  that  Declaration  bold, 

And  the  old  waiting  bell,  was  loudly  toll'd, 

By  anxious  hands  which  now  in  death  were  cold. 

From  hence  Springfieldward  pushing  in  its  course, 

In  Illinois  reign'd  up  the  iron  horse, 

And  there  in  solemn  pomp,  and  deep  distress, 

And  falling  tears,  they  lay  his  bones  to  rest. 

Farewell !  great  soul,  the  peoples  noblest  trust, 
"Earth  must  return  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust," 
And  spirit  to  its  God  eternal,  just. 
Farewell  immortal-famed,  a  long  farewell, 
O  how  the  bosom  of  the  nation  swells, 
As  o'er  its  heart  rings  out  the  dismal  knell, 
The  loss  of  matchless  human  worth  to  tell, 
In  this  great  benefactor.    Fare  thee  well. 


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